


Say Yes

by Daryl_Alenko



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Rating May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When two violins are placed in a room if a chord on one violin is struck<br/>the other violin will sound the note<br/>If this is your definition of hope<br/>This is for you.</p><p>This is for the no becoming yes<br/>For scars becoming breath<br/>For saying I love you to people who will never say it to us<br/>For scraping away the rust and remembering how to shine.</p><p>- Andrea Gibson</p><p>The progression of an unconventional, beautiful relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anything

**Author's Note:**

> So, the moment I saw the big, epic hug between Finn and Poe, and the way Poe bit his bottom lip when he looked Finn over in his jacket, I have liked these two as a pairing.
> 
> So, here is a fic for Stormpilot, inspired by the poem Say Yes, by Andrea Gibson.
> 
> Every chapter will be named after one of her poems, with a few stanzas appearing at the beginning. So, if the theme of the chapter intrigues you, give her a look up on youtube.
> 
> And, I want to add a big note in here, for anyone that might like this story and want to read the upcoming parts. This story will be a slow one. Meaning, that it will take me time to upload each chapter as I finish them. But, I hope that some might be willing to stick with it. ^_^

I'm fighting wars that grind the enamel off my teeth  
and I wake with my jaw clenched and my body bent  
thinking how many dishes have I broken this week  
in an attempt to not break myself?

and it's things like that that got me going crazy  
'cause I was thinking maybe the breaths we'd take together  
would make us live forever  
and now you’re killing me.

* * *

30 seconds. A blink of an eye in the course of life, but for the Resistance, it was a lifetime. 30 seconds before the Starkiller Base would wipe the Resistance from this very existence, Poe Dameron delivered a fatal blow to a weak spot created by Finn, Rey, Chewie, and Han. In a blaze of glory, Starkiller consumed itself in a rush of fire and heat. Dying like the sun it wished to unleash on the Resistance. 

10 minutes. A hundred breaths, a dozen blinks of an eye ... to Poe? To him 10 minutes is an eternity! The moment his X-Wing dropped out of hyperspace and he heard the radio chatter from the Millennium Falcon ... Rey's tight voice screaming for a Medic, Chewie's agitated roaring in the background, he knew instantly; Finn. Something had happened to the Ex-Stormtrooper and he knew that he couldn't land and exit his X-wing in less than 10 minutes. No breath was deep enough, strong enough to clear away the dizzying fear tumbling through his brain as he silently begged his fighter to move faster. To some how muster an extra burst of energy to get him to the surface of D'Qar sooner. As if a few seconds could make the difference between hope and defeat. 

Finn has to be okay. They survived the First Order, stealing a TIE Fighter together, and Jakku .. came back together on D'Qar and shared a moment of silent understanding. They are trauma bonded. Not the best stepping stone to build a friendship on, but it's all they have. Well, their trauma bond and the memory that Poe had the honor of naming the Ex-Stormtrooper. A moment of adrenaline and camaraderie that Poe will -never- forget.

1.3 minutes. The amount of time it took Poe to escape from his X-Wing and run for the Millennium Falcon. And then ... well, .5 seconds to get a glimpse of his friend out cold, sweat high on his brow.

* * *

The scent of cauterized leather nearly makes the Commander sick. He clutches at his stomach as he watches them carry Finn away. He turns in just enough time to catch a glimpse of General Organa hugging a distraught Rey close and his mind just won't let him get a grip on the situation. All he can think is that Finn is down and they are taking the man away from where he is currently standing. 

That. Won't. Do.

He takes off at a run, dodging Snap and Testor as they try to congratulate him. After a glimpse of the frantic fear in his face, both pilots tear off after their Commander, worry and confusion warring between them. Surely he hadn't been hurt, yeah!? 

"Commander?" Testor calls out, her voice scratchy with worry and a touch of exhaustion as the last dregs of adrenaline fade from her system. "Commander!?" She calls out a little louder, dodging around a well wisher that Poe practically plows down in his determination to reach the medbay. 

"POE?!?" Snap's exuberant voice cuts through the throngs of chatter that surround them on all sides as they pass from the landing strip, into the base proper. The sudden transition causing Snap's voice to fairly echo all around them. But still, Poe doesn't slow down. His friends/squadmates exchange perplexed looks as they continue to bob and weave through the foot traffic. Both are a little surprised, if not worried, to see the way Poe seems to cut a path through them all, not paying much attention to who he shoves aside in his determination. Hell, both of them are sure that if General Organa stepped into his path, he'd probably plow through her, too. 

A cacophony of curses erupt from the two pilots as they chase after their wayward Commander, their bodies weaving a tapestry of bright, oiled orange among the dark greens and greys of the base personnel. Even from a distance, both pilots are well versed enough in the emotions of their Commander to know that something is not right. Not good. Poe Dameron is a breath away from unraveling at some imaginary seam, and both pilots know ... that there is no chance either of them are strong enough to sew him back together.

"FI.....N..N!" The name emerges as a fissure from Poe's dry lips. Breath and voice fail him and darkness threatens to encroach on his peripheral. His own body seeming to wage a rebellion against his rash actions of following when he has no right to. Or, at least, he feels he has no right to. Technically, he doesn't know Finn from Adam ... not really. And yet .. is that true? He knows that he was a Stormtrooper .. that despite all the conditioning, brainwashing and re-educating the First Order tried, Finn managed to pull away from their influence and choose to be a better person ... that he, Poe Dameron, got to name him ... and that despite all the odds, the man survived a crash landing on Jakku and the destruction of the Starkiller Base. 

So, he has to survive this, too ... right!? If there is a Maker, God, or a Pantheon of Demi-Gods out there anywhere, then Finn is going to pull through whatever has happened to him! And if Poe has to go wrangle one of those supposed supreme beings to ensure it happens .. well, he won't hesitate! There is something about Finn. A presence that the young man exudes that has drawn Poe in and he cannot stand the thought that something bad has happened to him.

"FINN!" He draws in a deep, unsteady breath and manages to project the name coherently this time, though just as distressed as it had been when it cracked from him moments ago. His shoes squeak faintly as he skids to a stop in front of the medbay entrance, paling when he sees the swarm of white and blue smocks denoting doctors and nurses. Then, he sees Finn. Laid out on his stomach, the leather flight jacket scorched a crackling, smoking black, the smell so overwhelming that Poe's hand actually slaps across his mouth to stave off the possibility of getting sick. After all, he doesn't have to be in the medical profession to know that a stream of vomit was going to pretty much wipe out any possible sterilization the room might still contain.

"Excuse me, Commander Dameron, but you cannot come in here." The clipped, distressed tones of a female nurse catch him off guard and he nearly reaches out to physically move her from his path. She is an obstacle. Living, breathing, and giving him a look somewhere between panic, apologetic and severe, but an obstacle none the less. His first instinct is to deal with the obstacle and think later. Which is probably why it's a hell of a good thing that Testor and Snap reach him before he can do something he would most definitely regret.

"Come on, Poe. He's in good hands, buddy. They've got this." Snap's usually loud, jovial voice is now soft, placating. He is about 2 seconds from out and out begging Poe to step away from the room before they have to do something stupid. Like sedate him.

"Come on, Dameron. I'm sure they'll come get you the second that they have him stable. For now, though, we gotta meet up with Rey and the General and figure out what happened. Come on." Testor doesn't bother with a placating tone. Unlike her friend, her words are an out and out order, despite Poe outranking her. He gives a mute nod of his head as his gaze swivels back toward the table where Finn lays, unmoving. He sucks in a shuddering breath when they yank the jacket off his body, and he gets the first glimpse of charred, puckered skin. 

"GIVE ME THAT!" He demands in a shrill tone, his lips peeling back in a faint snarl of rage and demand. The obstacle reaches out behind her, snagging it from a passing nurse's hand and holding it out to the Commander. Poe snatches the jacket from her and hugs it tight against his chest as he turns and follows the other two Pilots away from his friend.

* * *

Kylo Ren is a dead man. That thought is the -only- thing that sustains Poe through the meeting. He listens silently as Rey explains what happened. Kylo Ren killed Han Solo while Rey and Finn were powerless to help. They managed to complete their mission, but on their return to the Falcon, Kylo Ren appeared. Finn ... brave, beautiful, innocent Finn, dueled Kylo Ren, with a LIGHTSABER, to try and protect Rey. The damage Poe had seen on his friend, well, it makes sense now. The blackened, puckered skin, the stench. Oh gods, but Finn should be -dead-. That thought rouses a creature deep in him that claws and gnaws at the pit of his stomach. Awakening a feral hatred and anger in him.

Kylo. Ren. Is. A. Dead. Man. Each word is punctuated with a roar of vengeance in his head.

After the recounting of the events that lead them to this moment, came the revelation that they had the map. Intact and full. Luke Skywalker can be found again! While everyone rejoices over this thought, Poe finds himself in a corner of the room, away from the celebration. He presses his back against the cold wall and stares down at the jacket clenched in his white knuckled fists. The jacket that smells like Finn, but only just. No, it smells more like burned hair, scorched flesh ... death. He bites back an irrational sob as he thrusts his face against the warm, tainted leather and struggles not to cry. 

This makes no sense. He has known Finn a few hours all told and yet, his heart is beating erratically, his hands are shaking uncontrollably and he feels as if he could honestly curl up and sleep for a week. He's not used to being this out of sorts.

"Poe ..." General Organa's soft voice snaps him out of his stupor. He yanks the jacket away from his face, trying his hardest not to admit that he's sniffing a piece of damaged leather over a man he barely knows. 

"General Organa, ma'am." The words are stiff and salty, but he is doing his best to hold it together. To approach whatever conversation is about to take place, with the proper amount of respect due the woman that has just lost the love of her life. "I assume Ms. Rey will be undergoing a mission to make contact with Master Skywalker?" He latches onto something familiar. A life preserver so that he doesn't breakdown and unravel right here and now. How horrible, cruel, and callous would it be to break into tears over a stranger when she is holding it together so beautifully on the tail end of finding out .... that the love of her life was just murdered by their son!?

"Yes, Poe." Her brow furrows as she watches the pilot, a frown tugging at her lips. She knows what he's doing. He's deflecting. Dancing around the obvious problem that he's facing, and she is even touched that he seems to care about her feelings in the midst of all of this. It doesn't make her worry any less, of course. "Young Rey, Chewie, and R2D2 are going to take the Falcon and navigate the map. She will update us on any possible information she finds." She shifts from foot to foot for a moment, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I am sure she will do very well, General. Finn speaks highly of her, as does BB-8." He forces the name Finn out carefully, making sure that none of his concern colors the word in any way as he watches her. The hands still buried in the scorched leather subtly rearrange themselves until they are clasping the article of clothing behind his back.

"I have no doubt she is as skilled and capable as Finn says she is. I know Han and Chewie were both fond of her as well." She manages to keep Han's name neutral and calm, and more than anything, Poe wants to throw his arms around her, weep with her. But he knows that will come later. When she can shrug off the mantle of General and simply wear the mantle of woman, she will mourn the man. "Truth be told, Poe, I considered sending you with her. You are our best pilot, and I know that if the Falcon got in a jam, you would be useful to them." His hands tighten in the fabric of the jacket and for the first time since he joined the Resistance, he feels conflicted. Torn between duty and ... gods, he can't think of any word but -desire- and it will have to work for now. "But, Rey is a decent pilot and Chewie flies the Falcon like he was born to it. Besides, you are needed here." She reaches out to squeeze his shoulder and his hands nearly drop the jacket. Though he manages to hold onto it.

"T-thank you, General." His voice is hoarse and cracked, and he forces a watery smile as she squeezes his shoulder again.

"Rey said she would only be a moment speaking to Finn, Poe. Go on. Go see him. They say he's stable enough to have visitors." His watery smile grows a little, gains a dimension that places it somewhere between ephemeral and solid. He wrenches one of his hands free of the jacket and reaches up to squeeze her hand before he turns on his heel and practically flees the meeting room, running full tilt toward the medbay.

* * *

The distraught pilot nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to reach a room that he knows will break his heart. Because there's no way he will walk in there and see Finn sitting up, looking out of place and gorgeous all at the same time. How a single man can wear so many conflicting emotions at once baffles Poe, but he accepts it none the less. How can he not? It is a part of Finn, an empirical fact that cannot be separated from the weave of the creature. After all, he had seen the existence of this odd trait from the moment FN-2187 ripped off his white helmet and exposed the human beneath. 

Gods, he will never forget the first time he saw the face of a Stormtrooper. Not even taking into consideration that beautiful mocha skin and the kind of dark eyes you could swim in, the -emotion- on the face had nearly knocked the breath from him. Such overwhelming fear, confusion and innocence! How the -hell- is a STORMTROOPER capable of being INNOCENT?!? They're killing machines incapable of thinking for themselves. Except for Finn. He's an abnormality. A great, beautiful mutation that goes against the norm of the First Order. And Poe loves that about him.

"You have to wake up, Finn. Sooner, rather than later, I think. There are so many people that wish to thank you, for helping to save the Resistance." Rey's voice floats out through the open door, and Poe finds himself pushing his body as flat against the wall as he can. Hovering on the edge of a conversation that he has no part in. He should turn around, leave this area. Head to his quarters and clean up. Hell, just breathe, but he won't. He will stand here, flat against the wall, eavesdropping on the conversation because the moment she's done, he'll be able to enter. See, with his own two eyes, what shape his friend is actually in. 

"And if you won't woke up for them you must wake up for me, and for Poe. I hope to be able to look you in the eye when I must say goodbye, Finn. General Organa is going to allow me to follow the map we fought for, and find Master Skywalker. I am going to hand him the lightsaber we used to save each other. I want to tell him about you, Finn. About the brave Stormtrooper that held my hand in the Jakku desert, that fought Rathtar with Han Solo and Chewbacca ... that went head to head with Kylo Ren and managed to wield a lightsaber!" Her words are a roller-coaster of ups and downs. Happiness, sadness, awe, and fear. Each word a masterpiece of emotion, painted with care. All aimed at the hope that somehow, by some miracle, she might be able to rouse Finn with words alone. A hope they both share, even if Poe isn't willing to admit that to himself.

"And Poe..." She sighs his name with gentle confusion. She knows so little about him, after all. Only that she had glanced up from the General's shoulder to see the pilot racing after Finn's prone form, his squadmates screaming after him. It must mean he cared about Finn, right? "I do not know him, or even how -you- know him, but it is obvious that you mean something to him. He chased you through the base while they were bringing you here. He also has your jacket. Why that old piece of leather means anything to him, I'm not sure. But he was clutching it at the end of the meeting." She sighs softly, and Poe finds his hands tightening in the leather he still clutches. He wants to rage at her that it is -their- jacket! That it was his and now it is Finn's, but still somehow a part of him. Though, he still wants to know why Finn kept it. Why the ex-Stormtrooper had ran to hug him wearing the thing. What made him keep it? What had it meant? And why did he let Finn keep it? So many questions, and only as he stands there calculating the number of them, does the truth strike. He may -never- have answers. 

If Finn doesn't wake up, he may never know. That truth hits him square in the heart, and he has never felt so unbelievably tired as he does now.

"There's an entire Galaxy waiting for us, Finn. Beyond the First Order, beyond Jakku. There is a -future- for us out here, among the stars. Wake up, please. You're the only friend I've ever had." Poe's eyes widen a fraction, and he finds himself hit square in the heart with more feels. She's just like Finn. Another innocent caught in the middle of a bloody war far larger than they will ever be. He sucks in a deep, trembled breath, murmuring gentle promises to himself. He will not let this war destroy Finn. Or Rey. He will be there for either of them, if they need him. He will find some way to make sure that they are able to hold onto their Innocence for as long as possible. 

He sucks in one more breath, and then pushes himself off of the wall. He takes the few steps necessary to enter into the medbay, the antiseptic scent of cold cleanliness making his nose itch and his head throb. But he pushes on.

"I know him .. because we saved each other's lives, Rey. And the jacket .." He glances down at the bundle of burned fabric and sighs as he carefully lays it on a chair by the door. Afraid to step too close to Finn's bed to survey the damage done his friend. "Well, it started as mine." He lets out a mirthless chuckle that is boarding on hysterical and his anger ratchets up a notch. Because he still has no fucking CLUE why he's reacting this way. Why he is straddling the line of hysterical and emotionally dead over some one he barely knows. Emotions are a conundrum he is never going to understand.

"Poe?" Rey questions softly, glancing between Finn and the pilot that is hovering so close to the door. She glances at the jacket, and then back at the pilot. Confused, and yet, wanting to understand. For some reason, that simple fact endears her even more to Poe.

"Poe Dameron, ma'am. Resistance fighter Pilot, and Finn's friend." He grins, small and flat, but still a grin. He shifts uncomfortably for a moment before he comes a little closer. Still not looking at his friend. "He and I met on the Finalizer, after Kylo Ren's men captured me on Jakku. After ... after Kylo Ren mindraped me to get the information of what we were after. They were supposed to be transporting me .. somewhere ... but Finn came up in his armor and grabbed me. He told me that it was the -right- thing to do, to save me ... but he needed a pilot to get off the ship. They were going to .. to .." He struggles with the word. So much has been going on, that he hasn't had the time to stop and really think about everything that has happened. About the damage that Kylo Ren has done to his mind, the fact that Finn had been a few minutes from being completely brain wiped, the fact that they escaped death so many times. It hits him between the eyes and his headache intensifies.

"They were going to re-educate him. Brainwash him again, to make him more like the other Stormtroopers. Hell, he didn't even have a name when we met!" He reads the disbelief in her eyes, and he actually laughs. A real, soft laugh, his head bobbing in affirmation of his words. "Yeah, he was known as FN-2187, said that's the only name they ever gave him. So, I named him Finn." He can feel heat pouring into his cheeks, his head dropping a little in hopes that she won't see it. Which means that he misses the soft smile across her pretty features as she contemplates this bit of news. "Once we left the Finalizer, I told him that we had to go back to Jakku to try and save BB-8 --"

"That's why he was so upset!" She squeaks the words, cutting the pilot off. Poe looks at her quizzically, and it's her turn to look a bit embarrassed as she blushes. "He made a comment about Jakku when I told him I had to go back. He asked why everyone wanted to go back to Jakku. Makes sense if we had both said something about it." Poe just nods, easily able to imagine the disbelieving, if not annoyed expression Finn must've had when she mentioned the planet.

"Well, we ended up crash landing on Jakku and when I woke up, neither Finn or the ship were in view. I guess he found my jacket then and started wearing it."

"Yeah, he told me he was a 'big deal' with the Resistance when I met him." She giggles at that, and Poe can't help but chuckle right along. A big deal, huh? Well, that's something he will have to remember for when Finn wakes up.

"Yeah, well, he wasn't. Though he will be now, I'm sure. Anyway, shortly after you were taken, we met back up. It was ..." He clears his throat, fights down a wave of emotion as he tries to decide what he should say. -If- he should say anything. "I thought he was dead, Rey. I didn't even know him, but the thought that he was dead was painful. And then, to see him running toward me ..." He can feel another blush, but he doesn't even bother to try and hide it. "We hugged, expressed our happiness that the other was okay, and that's when I noticed the jacket. I told him he could keep it, cause it suited him. That's when he told me about you, and that we had to rescue you. Of course, I jumped to, told him I'd do whatever he needed." Rey finds herself a little confused. If he barely knew Finn, why was he so willing to snap to and help, especially to help him rescue someone Poe had never met?? 

"And now, this.." He takes a deep breath, holds it until his lungs ache and his vision dims just the slightest. Once he exhales, he forces himself to take a few steps toward the bed, trying to brace himself for what he's going to find there.

Needless to say, there's no preparing for what he is going to face. Finn is settled on his stomach, motionless. His back is covered in a thick synthetic paste, and he hasn't the first clue what's going on. What state his friend is actually in. But just to see him there, completely prone ... as still as -death-. His hands clasp tightly behind his back and he struggles to keep a neutral air about himself. Failing miserably. Because he can feel the pain etched across his face, and he knows it's plain as day for anyone to see. Even if Rey is the only other one in the room. 

"What happened, Rey? I heard you mention .. Kylo Ren .. a lightsaber??" He chokes those words out, reaching up to scrub his hand down his face. Pleasantly surprised that the hand comes back dry, no tears or anything. Rey stands from her seat and moves closer to the bed. She lays a tentative hand on Finn's bare side, frowning in concentration as she recalls everything that happened.

"Kylo Ren killed Han Solo, while me, Finn, and Chewie watched. He .. he ran him through with his saber sword and we all .. snapped. We tried to take him out, but we had so little time. We had to blow the place, so that you and the other fighters could take Starkiller out. Finn and I ran, tried to get back to the Falcon, but -he- was there." She shudders faintly at the memory of the man that had worn the strange, scarred mask. She bites at her bottom lip, trying not to lose herself in the memories.

"I tried to fight him, but he took me down. And Finn .." She blinks back a sudden onslaught of tears and manages to keep her voice from wavering too badly. "He took up the lightsaber and -fought- Kylo Ren, Poe. He wielded a lightsaber to try and save me." The tears win out. They flow in hot, sluggish torrents down her cheeks and Poe just can't help himself. He crosses to her, throwing his arms around her to hug her tightly. And just as with Finn, despite that they don't know each other, they hug for all that they are worth. Strive to hold each other up and work through the pain. Once they pull apart, Rey offers him a shy but grateful smile as she tries to wipe her tears away and get back to the story. "Kylo hurt him .. so bad, Poe. He pierced his shoulder, cut down his spine .... it was horrible. When I got up, Finn was .. just out. Cold. I called the Saber to me and did my best to kill Kylo Ren for hurting Finn. But I didn't succeed. Chewie showed up, managed to carry Finn to the Falcon so that we could get back here."

Poe can feel his anger and disgust warring inside him as he tries to imagine his beautiful, innocent Finn picking up a lightsaber to defend Rey. Fighting against the man that had managed to break down part of Poe's mind. And, for what feels like the millionth time, he finds himself mentally whispering the words; Kylo Ren is a dead man.

"Gods, I just can't picture it, Rey. Or, well .. I -can- picture it and I never want to again. Finn shouldn't have to fight against a sadistic psycho like Kylo Ren. He deserves so much better than that!" He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as his headache crescendos in a deafening throb. "We're supposed to be fighting -for- people like Finn, Rey. So that innocent people caught in the crosshairs, like him, have a chance at a better life. And instead, he's laying here, burnt and injured, because he couldn't sit back and watch the First Order win." He forces himself to stand at the end of the bed, to really look down at the prone form of his friend. He traces the outline of the wound beneath the paste with his eyes, and then lifts his tear stained gaze to Rey, where she is staring intently at him through eyes kissed in tears as well. "And for people like you, Rey. It's not fair. You shouldn't have to run off and bring back some damn Jedi that gave up!" The uneasiness, the pain and fear and hope tumble out of the cracked vessel of his heart, immediately replaced by an overwhelming tempest of anger.

"Luke Skywalker -left-. We wouldn't have needed a damn map, wouldn't be sending you off into Gods only know WHAT if he hadn't run away in the first place!!" His voice echoes and screeches about the room, reverberating back at him. Each word cutting like dagger points, ripping to pieces his resolve, tearing down his faith. He had believed in his mission to recover the map that would lead to the last known Jedi. Believed in the loss of life that all war brings, because sometimes, war is the only hope. And how fucking pathetic is that!? That the only hope for a peaceful Galaxy is through violence!?

"Poe .." The cajoling softness of Rey's voice incenses him further. Riles the beast sleeping deep in him and he can feel another layer of control flaking free. Leaving him raw and exposed. Cornered.

"Don't Poe me, Rey! The fact of the matter is, Luke Skywalker ran away and left us to face his biggest mistake and good people have died because of it!" He snarls the words, vicious and bitter, his hands clenching and unclenching in trembled fists as he looks down at the man on the table. A man that could be up, laughing and marveling at the existence all around him, instead of face down in a medical coma. Because of the Force. Because of bastards like Kylo Ren and Luke Skywalker. Jedi, Sith, the First Order .... if he could, he would physically pummel them all to death in his current rage. "This entire Galaxy would be better off if the Force just faded away!" He barely manages to pitch his voice an octave below a scream. And before he can say more, before he can continue his rant of hatred and anger, he feels the most peculiar thing. Rey's arms sliding around his waist from behind. 

The delicate press of her tear stained features as she presses the curve of her face between his shoulderblades. His anger is instantly doused, smothered by the innocent pain pouring off of her as she clings to him from behind. His hands fall to grasp her arms, digits quivering as the emotion bleeds away. He hesitates for but a moment before he turns in her embrace. His arms encase her torso, tugging her close as he lets out a heartrending whimper before burying his face against her shoulder. They almost seem to merge as one, become a single entity of tears and tremors as they let their emotions out in whispered sobs. Anchoring each other in their anguish, letting it pour out of them so that, hopefully, they can get past all of this.

"I'm so sorry, Poe." Rey whispers the words hoarsely, finally pulling back. Though her hands remain twisted deep in the material of his orange jumper as she looks up at him. He blinks away the last of his tears, a tired smile appearing on his features. Strangely, he somehow feels better after crying it out a bit. 

"I know, Rey. I know." The words waver and wane as they escape him, his entire body sagging with exhaustion both physical and mental. He carefully peels his arms off her quaking form, forcing deep, steadying breaths as he pulls away from her completely. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to .. lose it ... like that." He frowns darkly, a mask of confusion snapping in place as he looks from the prone form back to the girl. "I don't understand my own reactions, Rey. None of this makes sense." The words tumble out before he can censure himself, and he cannot take them back. Though, from the slightly confused look on Rey's beautiful features, he has a feeling that he shouldn't bother trying to take them back, anyhow.

"What doesn't make sense, Poe?" Rey's brows knit together in a confused furrow, and once again, Poe finds himself seized by an almost primal need to -protect- the woman. Not realizing that it's the exact same reaction Finn had to Rey, upon first meeting her. The same reason Finn grasped her hand and tried to run with her. "Finn is your friend and you care about him. Of course you're going to be angry and hurt over his being hurt." She points this out as if it's the simplest, most logical thing in the world. He is once again struck by the sheer, beautiful innocence of the woman, and he knows, just from their few moments together, that Finn is the same. It breaks his heart all over again, realizing that these two pure, wonderful creatures will probably break and bleed so badly for a Cause that neither belong to.

"Rey .." He whispers her name forlornly, but can conjure nothing to go with it. No admonishment, agreement, nothing. Just her name, and then he's lost. She reaches up, patting his cheek gently before she pulls back and offers him up a tired, but real smile.

"Go get cleaned up and try and sleep, Poe." He opens his mouth, every intention of arguing. Of insisting that he has to stay here, just in case, but he can feel himself swaying a little where he stands. And honestly, the last thing he wants to do is faceplant in front of a young woman he is growing to respect so very much.

"Good night, Rey. Please, get some sleep as well." He offers her a ghost of a smile, before he turns and drags himself out of the medbay. Silently, he curses war. The inevitable changes, loss of life, and everything else horrible associated with war. He has a single moment to wonder if it will ever change, ever get better ... if he will -ever- manage to fix himself in the midst of all of this. But then it's time to wash up and sleep, and he is lucky enough to put all of this crap behind him long enough to rest.


	2. Yarrow

* * *

Iris, Rose, Magnolia, Gardenia.

When I heard of Katrina  
I thought, "The flowers, save the flowers."

I never thought for a second  
we wouldn't save the people.

* * *

The aroma of grass and sage fills his nose. It reminds him of the antiseptic scent that clung to the Finalizer. Hell, to every First Order area he had ever been sequestered since the Order stole him to become a Stormtrooper. They were big on simple 'cures' to keep their people in line. Herbs and things that could be easily duplicated and used to keep the troopers calm and laboring under the impression that they were being taken care of. 

The grassy, sage-like smell is one all too familiar to him. Yarrow. The bitter tasting leaves they used for almost everything. Feeling run down? Yarrow tea. Got a cut or scrape? Yarrow paste. It became a running joke, inasmuch as there could be jokes in such regimented quarters, that everyone learned to keep their mouths shut, else they were Yarrowed. The thought of a single substance becoming a verb with such negative connotations would be amusing, if it weren't true. 

"You're awake." The soft, tired tones draw him from his memory, his eyes fluttering open and immediately snapping closed again when a harsh beam of light assaults his gaze. The feeling of a heavy, warm weight in his hand causes him to creak his eyes open once more. Lashes barely filtering the light away from his weak eyes as he tries to understand what's in his hand. Of course, once he sees, the answer is so logical and obvious, or should be. There is a hand wrapped protectively around his own, and it fills him with a fluttery warmth. A feeling he's not used to. Yes, he had held Rey's hand on Jakku, but that was different in so many ways. Because it was fight or flight instinct dredged up from some primal part of himself that said protect the girl. Run. 

But this is different. So much so. It's comfort and safety, and an anchor that he cannot even begin to contemplate when he is feeling lightheaded and untethered.

"Finn? Can you hear me, buddy?" Finn. Buddy. Those two words are a miracle. They reach through the fog of his exhausted mind and instantly snap the world into focus. The first thing he sees? Poe. Tired, disheveled, but smiling brilliantly. Of course, that would be the hand he's holding. Poe's.

"Poe .." His voice creaks, wheezes, and he feels the hand in his squeezing. Trying to reassure. It works. Because Poe is there. That's what matters. "What .. happened?" He forces the words out through cracked, dry lips. The tip of his tongue sweeping from corner to corner of his mouth, trying to alleviate the problem. But one cannot moisten lips with an arid tongue. He groans, the sound pulled from deep inside of him, and again feels the pressure on his hand. 

"Just try to be still, buddy. It's okay." The sudden caress of Poe's thumb across Finn's held hand calms him instantly. If he didn't know any better, he'd wonder if there was some kind of Jedi mind trick behind the action, not realizing that it's the general sense of contact that calms him more than anything.

"Poe .." He forces himself to enunciate the name, aiming that curious, pained gaze at the pilot. Silently pleading for understanding, and damn if it don't work. Poe seems to crumble momentarily, his features softening almost impossibly. He places his other hand around their clasped ones, and Finn shivers at the contact. 

"Alright, buddy. Just, relax." The hands are suddenly gone, and Finn finds himself feeling lost and a little bit afraid at their absence. "I'm just stepping over here." Poe indicates a table a few feet away, and Finn barely manages to nod his understanding. He doesn't know why he feels panicked at the thought of Poe leaving, but he does. Because when Poe held his hand, it felt .. it felt as if he is being anchored here, to this world, this existence. That if Poe lets go, Finn will cease to exist. Float away into nothingness. That is not a feeling he relishes. -NOT- something he wants to happen. Maybe, when he was still enthralled to the First Order, the prospect of cessation would've been an appealing one, but not now. Not after Rey, Poe, Chewie, Han Solo .. not after realizing that there is truly something to fight for, a real Resistance that could bring real change to a floundering galaxy.

"What do you remember, Finn?" Poe questions wearily as he pours a cup of cold water and returns to the bedside. He cradles the back of Finn's head to help him drink the refreshing water without having to try and sit up. He splutters and coughs a few times, but manages enough to soothe his throat. Once he is done, Poe holds the cup in one hand, the other caressing the back of Finn's head gently as he looks down at his friend.

"I.. Rey? A .. a fight .." Finn struggles to try and remember, Poe's tired smile quieting him. When his friend turns, pulls away to put the glass down on the table it came from, Finn tries to push himself to a sitting position.

"No! Don't move!" Poe cautions, rushing back to his friend's side. A hand on his chest causes Finn to carefully lay back down completely again. When the hand doesn't move, he calms even further. Almost wants to sigh or purr in happiness or something. "You have to stay laying down for now, Finn. Okay?" Poe murmurs as he settles on the side of the bed, pressed a little into Finn's side. Not that the ex-Stormtrooper minds or anything. 

"Why .. do I smell .. yarrow?" Finn struggles to get the words out, struggles to turn his head and look up at Poe. His stomach dips and somersaults when Poe smiles down at him.

"Yarrow? I don't smell any yarrow, Finn. Might be the meds or something?" He shrugs his shoulders, and Finn frowns. He's sure that he can smell it. But then, maybe it's from the memory? Growing up around it? He heaves a sigh, and turns his head just enough that his forehead brushes against Poe's hip. The action causes the other man's smile to brighten a little. Finn's stomach does another one of those strange, dippy things. 

"Rey??" The name is high pitched, Finn's stomach clenching painfully as he waits for some news of the woman he had risked so much for. Poe's eyes flash with uncertainty before the smile returns. His free hand moves to rest gently atop Finn's forehead.

"Don't worry about Rey right now, Finn. You just need to concentrate on getting better, okay, buddy?" The genuine affection in Poe's voice, in the tone of his words, sweeps away Finn's concerns for now. "Get some more rest. I'll be here when you wake up." Finn manages a weak, but surprisingly content smile for his friend as he feels himself falling into the darkness again.

* * *

The days pass in a slow paced blur. A procession of medical staff, well wishers, groupies and strangers. All wanting to thank him, spend time in his presence. All wanting to offer whispered words of encouragement for a man they know nothing about. It sort of sends his mind a bit around the bend. To have gone from obscurity to prominence in such a short time. It's almost too much for his poor mind, and heart, to take. 

"Still brooding, I see." The cheery voice of the best Pilot in the Resistance cuts through Finn's thoughts, drawing him back to the moment with a fair grin on his handsome features.

"Bite me, Poe." Finn grumbles, the Pilot snorting in amusement.

"Just tell me where, buddy." Poe purrs the words with a waggle of his brows, and nearly croons with happy laughter when he sees the bit of a blush across Finn's cheeks. He loves the fact that he makes Finn blush deep enough that it's actually visible. "Honestly, I swear I'm gonna find out who's been teaching you stuff like that, and kick their bony asses from one side of the base to the other, man." Finn snickers deeply, nearly guffawing, at the mental image Poe's words conjure. Earning him an exasperated sigh and eye roll from his friend. "What, exactly, is so amusing about that, Finn?" Poe pouts as he crosses the medbay room floor and plops onto the bed beside the Ex-Stormtrooper.

"Oh, come on!" Finn grumbles playfully as Poe stretches out next to him, until their shoulders, hips, and knees are pressed against each other. "That is, like, the funniest visual ever, Poe!" Finn snickers warmly, his eyes fluttering closed as he visualizes it again. "I can see you running after someone, smacking their backsides with the side of one of your boots, waving your arms up and down like a mad man." This description earns Finn a hip shove from his friend, and this time, Poe gives a put upon sigh. Loud, overly dramatic, and perfectly Poe.

"Such a wonderfully flattering image of me, buddy." The pilot turns his head enough that he can level a devastatingly cute pout at his friend. The change in position bringing their faces close enough that they can feel each other breathing.

"Come on, Poe, even that visual is flattering. Have you looked at yourself lately?" It's Finn's turn to roll his eyes, turning his head so that he's staring up at the ceiling. Causing him to miss the bright, cherry red flush that seeps across Poe's features before he turns his face toward the ceiling as well.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the ultimate symbol of sexy in the Resistance." The words are, of course, sarcastic. Finn rolls his eyes a second time, his jaws clenching momentarily as he fights down a wave of something bitter and frustrated that he doesn't understand. He has never been good at deciphering his own emotions or anything. The First Order hadn't been big on emotional development, after all.

"So it would seem." Finn mutters, lips twisting into a frown. "Half the people who come to see me, end up going on and on about how lucky I am to have you for a friend. You're so cute, sexy, suave, funny, talented .... the list seems endless." He grumbles the words, his head snapping to the side. Not toward Poe this time, but away. He can't explain it, the feeling that overcomes him as he speaks about his friend. It's a painful churning in his gut, bile and emotion twisting and bubbling there. Hollowing him out. "Men and women want you, and for some reason, they think -I- should want to hear all about it." He snaps that last bit, biting the words out from a mouth that tastes sour. Coated with something unidentifiable.

"What?" Poe snorts softly, lifting his head just enough from the pillow they share, so that he can try and get a glimpse of Finn's turned face. When he realizes that his friend is deliberately not looking at him, the playfulness drains from the pilot. He lets his head fall back to the pillow, aims his frown, a weapon of displeasure, at the ceiling. "Wait, what?" He grimaces upon repeating himself, even if he added diversity from his previous question by adding the wait. He exhales heavily, a few wisps of his bangs fluttering on the man made breeze, tickling against his forehead. He idly wonders if he should get his hair cut soon, but obviously, there are more important things to think about right now.

"It .. doesn't matter, Poe." Finn tries to inject a certain sense of apathy into his words. Because he knows that he shouldn't be upset by what people say about his friend. After all, Poe Dameron is -all- of those things he had said earlier. Sexy, suave, talented ... the list really does seem endless, even to the Ex-Stormtrooper. And is that right? Like, is it normal, to view one of your friends that way?

"Come on, Finn. It doesn't really mean anything, buddy. People just .. they just talk out of their asses, man." Finn's eyes widen a fraction and he quickly turns his head so that he's staring at his friend. Who is wearing the biggest, dumbest smirk possible. Hell, the pilot is practically patting himself heartily on the back, despite not moving, for finally having Finn's direct attention on him once more.

"For Forces Sake, Poe!" The words are a nasally whine, Finn's hands flying up to press his palms tightly against his eyes as he tries desperately to banish the visual Poe's latest smart assed remark has created. Poe bursts into gale force laughter, arms desperately clutching at his sides as he watches Finn writhe beside him. Love his friend as much as he does, Poe just can't pass up the chance to fuck with him. It's just so much fun to do most times!

"Problem .. there .... Finn?!" Poe barely manages to eke out the words, Finn's features going as red as they are capable of doing. The ex-Stormtrooper reaches out on a whim, shoves Poe hard enough to send the older man rolling right out of the bed and onto the floor. The action causes them both to gasp. Poe in surprise as he plops unceremoniously onto his backside on the floor. Finn in agony as his back clenches and twinges, sending him into a spasm of pain that ends with him face down in the bed. Huffing deep, unsteady breaths.

"Finn, man I was just -- Finn!?" Poe's up in a second, torn momentarily between looking after his friend, and running to the door to call for help. "Hey! Need someone, now!" Poe lifts his voice until it echoes around the entire room, having decided that practically screaming for help and remaining at Finn's side is the better call. "Come on, buddy .. it's going to be okay." Poe murmurs, dropping to the bedside when he sees the muscles in Finn's neck standing out as his body clenches.

"P..o.....e" The name is an agonized whimper as Finn struggles against the pain wracking his body. "My...ba..ck.." He struggles to form words, to force them past the hard clenching of his jaw. His hands tremble against the bedsheets, fingers twisting and clawing at the material as he fight to find a way to lay on his stomach and alleviate some of the pain.

"Fuck. It'll be okay, Finn. Just.. relax..." Poe's brows knit together, and he reaches out to place one of his hands on Finn's clenched one. Frowning darkly as he alternates between shooting impatient looks at the door, and worried looks at his prone friend. "Try not to...to...clench, or whatever." He lamely offers the advice, internally cursing at himself for sounding so useless, feeling so damn helpless.

"Tr..y..ing...no...t....to..." Finn grunts, words forcefully exhaled with quick, quivering breaths. It hurts. So badly. Can't breathe. Can't move. His vision begins to swim with darkness at the edges. It rushes inward, faster and faster, until Finn nearly wants to scream with the fear that he has somehow gone blind, because he can see nothing. Almost as if his eyes have closed on their own, won't open.

"Calm down! You have to calm down!" The distant, muffled sound of a nurse's voice draws Finn from the overwhelming fear blanketing him. "It's perfectly natural, sir. But if you don't calm down and stop screaming, we're going to make you leave!" Finn tries to swivel his gaze, tries to look over to where the voice is coming from. How the hell is a nurse going to throw -him- out of his own damn bed?? Not to mention, he knows that he's not screaming. For a split second, he thinks he hears Poe's frantic voice, but in the next instant, all sound seems to fade completely. All he can hear is the jackhammering of his own heart, the strained cadence of his desperate breaths. 

"Finn .. did you fall asleep on me?" Poe's amused words have an almost magical affect on the Ex-Stormtrooper. The moment he hears Poe's voice, his eyes snap back into the focus. The darkness recedes like a curtain and he can see once more. He can also move. Slowly, he blinks, clears the last bit of obscurity from his gaze, and allows it to sweep around the room. He's curled up on the bed, on his back, Poe still stretched out next to him so that they are connected at shoulder, hip, and knees. 

Finn stifles a sudden yawn, his nostrils flaring as the scent of Yarrow and something exotic, warm and inviting, floods his senses. It takes him a moment to identify the faint floral undertones .. gardenia. The sultry, subtle aroma of summer. He only vaguely remembers the beautiful, velvety blooms. Some partially repressed memory from his childhood before he was 'liberated' by the First Order. He remembers a vase, the color of a starburst nebula, with the faded golden gardenia flowers in it. A woman with a face he cannot remember, would wait until the blooms turned from pale white to gold, the scent just beginning to finally fade, before she would reluctantly throw them out.

"Asleep?" He questions groggily, trying to remember what he had been dreaming. Pain .. screaming ... stop or we're going to make you leave ... the words quickly slip from his waking mind, and he turns a sleepy pout toward Poe. Who's features are split in a beaming, happy smile.

"Yeah, asleep, goof. You were telling me how wonderful I am, and then fell asleep on me. If you're tired, buddy, I can leave. As much as I -love- the subject of how great and talented I am, you need your sleep." Poe reaches down to take Finn's hand, squeezing it lightly before he starts to let go. Preparing to sit up and vacate the room. Stop or we're going to make you leave .... Finn whimpers. Loud, desperate. His hand tightens in Poe's, and he turns his wide, scared eyes onto the Pilot.

"P-please, no. Stay with me, Poe. Just a little while longer?" He hates the begging quality of his voice, hates the sudden burn of tears in his eyes. Hates that he -needs- so much, especially when he has no idea what exactly it is he actually needs. Poe's eyes widen, and he does nothing to disguise the surprise on his handsome features. After a moment, the pilot takes the Ex-Stormtrooper's hand again, wraps his own protectively around it, draws it to his lips to press a feather soft kiss there, and nods.

"Sure thing, Finn. I'll be right here, buddy. Get some sleep." Poe carefully shifts on the bed a bit, so that Finn has enough room to be comfortable while maintaining the faint press of their sides together. It's Finn's turn to beam at the other man before he lets his eyes slip closed, lets himself sink deep into sleep.

* * *

"I -am- capable of walking on my own." Finn whines pathetically, glaring daggers at Poe. The pilot is currently taking slow baby steps, with one arm wrapped around Finn's waist. Trying to force the Ex-Stormtrooper to travel at a slow, steady pace when all Finn really wants to do is run around the entire Resistance base at top speeds now that he's been cleared for free movement. "I have a Doctor's approval and everything, Poe!" He insists, though he hasn't made to pull away or remove the arm from his waist. In fact, he's pressed into Poe ever so slightly. With a dozen excuses and reasons for doing so flitting through his mind. 

"I know, Finn, but the Doctor also said that you had to be careful. Sudden movement can undo a month worth of recovery, and that just isn't going to happen!" Poe insists, his eyes narrow slits as he tries to concentrate on the floor in front of them. With his gaze lowered, he misses the half amused, half annoyed smile that softens Finn's features for a moment before he allows a scowl to take over.

"Riiiiigghhhtttt ... and Maker only knows when an innocent seeming spot in the floor might jump up and assassinate me." He tries to remain deadpan when he says those words, but when Poe's eyes dart around in search of such a lurking spot, Finn looks utterly dumbfounded. Because those are not words that Poe should be taking -seriously-! And in the very next moment, the Pilot himself seems to realize it. Because his cheeks blaze with a blush and his gaze drops even further to the ground. Hoping against hope that Finn won't see it. Of course, he's not that lucky. When the hell has he -ever- been that lucky?!

"S-sorry, man." Poe stumbles through the apology, his cheeks puffing out with a huffed breath as he struggles to keep walking, despite Finn being the one recovering.

"Poe .. come on, -buddy-." The Ex-Stormtrooper deliberately uses the word that Poe seems to bandy about so much, causing the Pilot to stop walking instantly and look up at him. Finn flashes that sweet, boyish smile and if he were just a little more observant and used to such situations, he'd be able to see Poe practically melting at the smile. "I was just teasing, man. Thanks, Poe, for all the help." The Pilot gives a jerky nod of his head before they start off, down the hallway once more.

"Glad to help, Finn. Not as if you have many friends here yet or anything. Though, give it time. Now that you really -are- a 'Big Deal,' everyone is gonna be clamoring for your time. Poor little me, I'll be left in the dust." The words are delivered with playfulness, but Finn thinks he detects some undercurrent of fear or something. He dismisses the notion immediately, of course, because no way was the man with the most swagger in the Resistance afraid of anything, let alone the thought of losing Finn's friendship. That's not even considering the fact that that would NEVER happen. 

"Yeah, right." He snorts derisively, his eyes shutting for a second as he tries to push through the all too familiar wave of hatred that burns through him like a nova. "I'm sure -everyone- is gonna line up to be the best of friends with an Ex-Stormtrooper that was little more than a glorified janitor before being handed a gun and told to go murder their loved ones on Jakku." The words leave his trembling lips like rapid fire bullets from a machine gun, a verbal arsenal of self loathing as he struggles to pull free of Poe's arms.

Only to find the appendage tightening around him as he's once more dragged to a stop. Tugged and pulled, manhandled affectionately until he's facing Poe once more. 

"Hey, none of that bullshit now, Finn." The stern quality in an otherwise kind voice snaps the Ex-Stormtrooper to attention faster than one of Captain Phasma's condescending lectures ever could. It's as if that tone reaches inside of him and latches onto something. Hope. Though he refuses to think the word, let alone believe in it just yet. "Yeah, man, you're an Ex-Stormtrooper. Keyword there, buddy, is EX! No one cares that you were a janitor, and guess what? On Jakku, you didn't fire a single fucking shot at anyone's loved one. You turned against those controlling sons-of-bitches and you CHOSE to leave the First Order and become a good guy." Poe squeezes his friend tenderly, a grin appearing out of the stern expression. "And then, you risked your life to save a woman you barely knew, and helped us take out the Starkiller Base. So yeah, I believe people are gonna be lining up to know you. I might even step aside and let a few of them close." He tosses an exaggerated, teasing wink at Finn, causing the man to chuckle despite himself. This time, it's his turn to carefully squeeze Poe, trying to convey all the happiness and gratitude he feels toward his friend.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Alright, man. You win ...... this time." He smirks cutely, aiming his big, wide, puppy dog eyes at the pilot, causing Poe to swallow heavily before he immediately turns and begins to guide Finn along again.

"I usually do, buddy."

* * *

Yarrow. It hangs like a heavy blanket all around him. And why wouldn't it?? He is standing in a greenhouse full of the stuff. The rounded bouquets of tightly packed white blossoms making his nose itch and his gag reflex quiver. Threatening to cause him to toss up the little bit of food he had been able to force himself to eat. Every time he tries to do so, it seems as if his stomach rebels and threatens to make him sick up. Of course, Poe and the Doctor said it was perfectly natural, after so long on a liquid diet and everything, while he was in his coma. Doesn't make him feel any better, of course.

No, in fact, it irks him no end. He's supposed to be recovering, damn it! So then, why does he feel as if he's languishing rather than improving!? Every day he feels as if he's growing weaker. Failing, somehow. But Poe insists it isn't true. He's hale and hearty, or at least, well on his way to being such. Is it just the Pilot's way of trying to make him feel better? Or is he really getting better?? He just doesn't know anymore.

"Never thought to see you here, man." Poe's voice intrudes on Finn's thoughts, pulling him back to the moment. He jerks, wincing as the movement causes his back to twinge a bit. "Finn!" The pilot rushes forward, eyes heavy with concern as he reaches out to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. Trying to steady him.

The truth of Poe sort of hits Finn right between the eyes. Every time he feels as if he's faltering, as if he's going to fall, Poe is there. Holding him up. That revelation fills him with a sense of warmth that is almost overwhelming.

" 'm fine, Poe. Thanks." Finn's usually soft, sweet smile is replaced by a tight one, and Poe tries not to frown at the action. Barely managing to keep it at bay as he nods and lets go of his friend immediately. "As for being here ... Doc wanted some more yarrow and asked if I'd get it. They've all been so nice to me, I couldn't really say no." He turns back to the flowers he had been staring at earlier. His nose wrinkles in distaste, but he grabs the small sheers and begins to clip the stalks. He's not the least bit surprised when Poe walks up next to him and begins to help.

"Technically, it's their job to help you, buddy. That doesn't mean you have to do every little favor for them, Finn. You -can- say no, buddy." Poe tries to draw out one of Finn's grins by smiling sweetly at him, but nearly recoils when all he gets is another tight smile.

"Yeah, well, I don't mind helping now and then. At least, until I can figure out a job to do here." He shrugs his shoulders, sliding the Yarrow into the basket Doc had given him to collect it in. He turns suddenly, sneezing loudly as the scent becomes too much for a moment. The feel of Poe's hand on his back is warm, comforting, and uncomfortable all at once. He shrugs it off and goes back to cutting the yarrow.

"I don't think any one really expects you to go to work just yet, Finn. You're still recovering and everything. After a while, once every thing settles back down, then you can figure out what you want to do. You have time, man." He offers a bit of a pressed smile, sliding the next bundle into Finn's basket before he takes a step back. Puts distance between them, which feels .. strange.

"Where's Rey, Poe?" Finn blurts the question out, frowning so deeply. He's not sure why he asks it, since he hadn't intended to. But it's out there, and he can't really change the subject or anything. Or had that been his intention? Change the subject onto something that wouldn't leave any room for him to think about how Poe's hand had felt on his back.

"Huh?" The word is a dumbfounded grunt as he tries to understand the sudden change. He blinks a few times and shakes his head to clear it. A faint smile appears after a moment. "We already talked about this, Finn. Why are you bringing it up again?" He yawns suddenly as he asks, turning away from his friend. Looking around the greenhouse for a moment. Maybe he could swipe a few flowers for his room. It's not as if they would miss one or two blooms of something.

"What? No, we haven't, Poe. Every time I ask, you change the damn subject!"

Poe frowns, staring down at a large planter of white flowers. They're pristine white, with five pointed star petals, with four petals on top of those, and a sweet, succulent scent that makes his head ache in the greatest of ways. On D'Qar, they are called Whittles. On Earth, they'd be called Magnolia. Though unlike the Magnolia, they grown on a step rather than a tree. He plucks two of the heavy, fat flowers and lays them in the palm of his hands. Staring down at them for a long moment. 

"Yes, Finn. We have talked about this!" He snaps, waging a war with the sudden anger that floods through him. Fights himself to keep from crushing the poor flowers in his trembling hands. Flowers that remind him so deeply of the man standing behind him. Pristine, perfect. Delicate in some ways, and yet, able to stand up to so much, too. He feels his fingers beginning to flex and he forces them to still. 

"Poe --"

"No! I don't give a damn what you want to say, Finn. I don't want to hear another word about Rey. It's not my fault you can't accept it!" Poe very nearly screams those words. Hurtling them at his best friend like slings and arrows as he turns on his heels and rushes from the greenhouse. Still clinging to the whittles as he heads for his room.

Finn growls. An angry, feral sound. He turns, grabbing the basket of yarrow and throwing it as far as he can. Feels a measure of cathartic release when it smashes into the Whittles that Poe had been standing at, tearing a few of the flowers from the planter. He winces vaguely as they crumble to the ground.

"Hope you like them, Finn." The words are a muffled, distant sound, and Finn jumps. Turns swiftly to look at the door Poe had run out of. Expecting to see his friend standing there. But nothing. Silence. Emptiness. He's the only one in the greenhouse. 

"... I think I'm losing it, Rey." He whispers the words to a friend he hasn't seen in months. The one that seems to be missing completely from his life. No matter how many times he has managed to bring Rey up, Poe never answers as to where she is. He insists they talked about it, and turns away. This is the first time they have out and out fought about it, and it leaves the Ex-Stormtrooper feeling empty and so very ... alone. He forces himself to carefully kneel, picking up the fallen yarrow and Whittles.

* * *

He knows that he should go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat. But he's avoiding the place. Big time. Since he and Poe fought in the greenhouse, Finn has mostly been keeping to himself. If he's not moping about his room, he's out in some decrepit part of the base that no one else seems to know exists. Or, well, the complete lack of anyone every being in that area when he is, makes it seem that way.

So, rather than go to the cafeteria, he is currently in one of those out of the way places. This one is a concrete room with a cracked floor, cracked walls, and large windows without glass or bars or anything. They make him think of large, grey monsters with gaping maws, and somehow, that actually makes him feel better.

He has begun to entertain the thought that he is pretty damn warped.

At the moment, he's leaning against one of the ruined windows, a cool breeze kissing his face. Calming him immeasurably. There something about wind that makes him think of a childhood he can only remember in half veiled snapshots. As if, somehow, wind represents freedom, innocence. All those things he lost while under the thumb of the First Order. So, it doesn't surprise him that much that he seeks out the wind of D'Qar to anchor or center himself.

When his stomach gives a particularly vicious rumble, he places a hand against it, his other gripping the window as he steadies himself.

"You know .. to -most- people, that sound means you should go eat something, Finn." The almost sarcastic bite in Poe's voice nearly undoes Finn on the spot. His fingers hook into quivering claws, pressing so tight against his stomach he'd probably have crescent shaped cuts there, if his clothes weren't providing the perfect shield against it. The hand gripping the window tightens as well, and for one almost unfathomable moment, he wonders if he's going to throw himself out the window to escape whatever is waiting behind him.

How the hell could a single fight make him physically afraid to face his one of his only friends in this Maker-forsaken galaxy!? 

"Tired of getting sick every time I try to eat, Poe." He mumbles the excuse, regretting it the moment the words have ended. Double so when he hears the scoff sound off from behind him. The muscles in his back bunch and clench, causing him to suck in a silent breath. His eyes begin to water from the pain, and both hands simply tighten. Maybe, just maybe, if he clenches the fucking things hard enough, this situation will repair itself. Yeah, right. And maybe tomorrow, Rey will show up, the First Order will lay down their Guns, and Kylo Ren will resurrect Han Solo from the dead.

"Right. And here I thought you were just avoiding me, buddy." That five letter word has never sounded so ... so cruel and tormenting before. It rips into Finn. Twists into his heart and guts, until he feels faint and wounded in so many places. Hollow. He feels hollow when Poe is mad at him and he hasn't the first clue why. "How arrogant of me."

"You -are- arrogant, Poe." Finn shoots back, his eyes springing open now that he knows the tears that stung them will not fall. "You've been arrogant since the day I met you." He actually laughs as he admits that. Not that he thinks it's news to his friend or anything. He finally manages to pry his hands free of stomach and window, and turns to face Poe. Who's leaning in the doorway, arms crossed in front of him. A moody roadblock that is telling the entire world to keep out. But then, if he's projecting that kind of warning .. why seek Finn out?? Yet something else he just doesn't understand about his friend. "But you're still my best friend, Commander Dameron." 

The sincerity in Finn's words barrels right through the roadblock, because Poe's arms fall away, his features an open mask of confusion. And hope. It always seems to come back to hope. He takes a step forward, chewing lightly on his bottom lip as he attempts to search Finn's features for something. And, apparently, he finds it, because that look of hope blossoms into a patented Dameron grin from ear to ear, and for a moment, Finn thinks he might stop breathing. 

What's up with that!?

"I .. am?" The level of surprise and uncertainty in that statement just about breaks Finn's heart, and for the first time he actually understands that feeling. That it hurts to find that Poe is surprised that he still considers him a friend. He rushes forward, not giving himself the time to think. Because of he thinks, he will stop. Let logic, lack of experience, and confusion get the better of him. That is -NEVER- a good thing. 

"Maker, Poe, of -course- you are!" Finn breathes those words with desperation. Breathes them as if they are the very key to his survival. Maybe, on some level, they are. "You really think it could be any other way, man?" He nearly whimpers that question a moment before he's reaching out. Wrapping his arms frantically around the Resistance pilot. In fact, he clings to him. Buries his face deep against the strong shoulder of his best friend. "Fuck, Poe .. I'm sorry, man. If I made you think that. I mean .. of course you're my best friend. You .. Poe .." Finn breathes into his friend's shoulder. Inhales sharply and takes in the scent of musk, sweat ... safety. Exhales heat, fear, and confusion. Allows all of those negative emotions that have been holding him back to escape on that breath. Freeing him like the breeze of his childhood.

"Shh. It's okay, Finn. I get it, buddy. I really do." And just like that, this blessed, beautiful man speaks the truths Finn's heart needs to hear and everything feels right in a world fucked up by war and chaos. A world tilting helter skelter on the wrong axis, but continuing to spin for all that it's worth.

"Poe .." The man's name is a strangled cry from lips too used to forming yes sirs and silent prayers of save me. Lips that still feel the forming of words like best friend and hope are foreign concepts, or worse yet, unattainable fairytales. 

Poe's head turns, the tip of his nose skating across the sensitive skin of Finn's neck, causing the man to shudder vaguely in the Pilot's arms as they cling to one another. Somehow managing to hold each other up in the midst of breaking each other down. Smashing walls, boundaries and notions all in one fell, clinging swoop.

"Finn ... buddy ... it's okay. Really." He tries to reassure the Ex-stormtrooper .. and himself .. with those words. Surely, this will all be okay. No sooner does this thought occur than the pilot realizes that isn't true. This isn't going to be okay simply by expecting it to. No, it will take what everything else takes; action. And when has Poe Dameron been anything but a man of action??

"Finn." He tries to sound confident. Tries to inject the Dameron Swag into the name, but it comes out a half broken squeak instead. Too much truth interjected for his comfort, but it's out there and he can do nothing but wait. And wait. Wait a little more. Because Finn doesn't look up. If anything, he buries his face deeper into Poe's shoulder. Trying to merge, or maybe trying to cease altogether. And that is a thought that scorches him to the very core. A galaxy without Finn hardly bears thinking about. "Finn." A little more forcefully this time, and apparently it works. Those deep, chocolate colored eyes lift from his shoulder and Poe nearly comes undone when he realizes those expressive jewels shimmer with pools of tears. That does it.

Action speaks louder then words? Than this is his fucking ANTHEM. He leans down, tilts and curls until his lips fit to Finn's like a perfectly curved puzzle piece, becoming a portrait of clumsy perfection. Because their lips click, key and lock formed so preciously, but it is not smooth or clean. It's an awkward, momentary clink of teeth before lips purse and press against each other. An electric embrace of flesh and emotion. 

When Finn pulls back, his eyes have shimmered a change from pools of tears to glittering stardust. And it writes a poem of desire across Poe's heart, despite the complete lack of words. It is an imprint, a truth that will never be forgotten. And before Finn can speak up, utter what the kiss may or may not mean, Poe is flashing the saddest smile the Galaxy would ever see. 

"Finn ..." This time, the name is a gentle sob. A forced word from jaws clenching against a tidal wave of emotion too deep and dark to describe, and Finn is confused. What changed in the span of a few heartbeats, to transform his words from elation to terrified prayer?? "I need you to wake up, Finn!" Frantic undertones spill through and the Ex-Stormtrooper has never felt so very lost before, and he lived the life of a Stormtrooper for the First Order!

"Wha--?" The word never reaches completion. Before he can form the T, his mouth puckers in a sob as he feels everything begin to fall away around him.

* * *


	3. Yarn

* * *

That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth.  
You can hear some of the lines every time you breathe out.

Have you ever spent a whole year hoping the morning wouldn't come?  
I've had a band-aid in one hand and the other a gun.

When I say that I miss you, I mean something more.  
I mean I've been biding my time till you kiss me again.

In your arms I forget what the yarn knows of sweaters.  
I forget how to hold myself together.

* * *

The medbay. He's in the medbay, a needle hooked to his wrist. He can feel the burning of something as it's pushed into his veins. Force feeding him .. something. A liquid diet? He remembers the Doc saying he had been on a liquid diet while he was in his coma. The smell of yarrow makes him gag. Or, no, wait. He tries to gag, but there's a tube shoved in his mouth. His throat constricts and flexes against it, gagging sounds dripping from his lips as he tries to spit the obstruction up, but he can't. It's lodged so deep, as if it's all the way in his stomach!!

"Finn!" Poe's voice is a strained wheeze of concern and fear. Like, overwhelming, tangible fear. He feels hands on him. Too many to be just Poe. Two hands push down on his shoulders, two hands grasp his calves. He feels a hand brush his bare side, and he knows immediately that it's Poe's hand there. It's warm, heavy, bare and familiar for some reason that makes no sense. He hasn't known Poe enough for the Pilot to be -familiar-. Not really. But it doesn't change the truth, does it?

"Come on, buddy, you gotta calm down. FINN!!" Poe's voice rises an octave, and it seems to have the exact opposite of the desired reaction. Finn begins to struggle more. Tries to fight against the restraint so that he can SEE his friend. Maybe if he can look at Poe, the Pilot will be able to explain what the hell he is doing back in here! It's been several weeks since he was released from medbay, so why the hell is he here, being restrained!?

"Commander Dameron, will you PLEASE step away from the patient!?" An annoyed voice momentarily cuts through Finn's freak out, and he feels the hand on his side reluctantly leave. That just fuels his panic and confusion further! He lashes out. Kicks and swings his arms, pushes up against the hands that are bound and determined to hold him pinned by the shoulders.

"GET! OFF! OF! ME!!" He howls the words out, barking them as if he were a rabid animal, rather than merely a confused person. The doctors and nurses grunt and groan as they struggle to settle him. Somewhere in the background, Poe wriggles where he stands, wanting to rush back to the other man and make sure that he's okay. He has to know for himself that the Doctors are right. That Finn is whole and well once more.

"Mister ... er.. Dameron, sir, I need you to calm down, okay? I know it's disorienting, waking up like this. If you will stay still for me, I will remove the tube, okay?" The doctor's voice is stern, and yet, frantic. A note of panic underlying the professionalism he has striven so hard to maintain in even the worst case scenarios. After all, something labeled the Resistance doesn't need a doctor for scraped knees and childhood illness. (Though the man has seen his fair share of such things as well.)

Mister ... Dameron. Those words zap the fight out of Finn instantly. Of course, he had assumed they meant Poe when they said Dameron, until the words calm, stay still, remove and tube were uttered. THEY'RE CALLING HIM MISTER DAMERON!?! So yeah, as that thought ricochets around his brain, the fight drains from him instantly. He falls heavily on his stomach, his muscles going lax as his eyes flutter shut. The world is hard to process. Even the light burns away his innocence. 

"That's good, Mr. Dameron. Now, we're going to roll you over onto your back. No! No, don't fight! I assure you, your back is fully healed, son. Just try to relax." Finn shudders, quakes with some deep, resonating fear that the moment he's on his back the pain will be so intense he'll scream. Or something less dignified, to deal with it all. But then, he tries to swallow on reflex, feels himself gagging around the tube and the probability of pain pales in comparison to the tube stifling his throat. If he cannot breathe, he'll die. Though, even now, some deep, dark recess of logic still exists in his brain and he knows that the tube is there to HELP him breathe, but fear and panic are loathsome creatures that drop kick logic in the groin and laugh sadistically as it dies a writhing death. 

"Okay, now careful, everyone." He feels the push and pull of hands across his body. Shifting his shoulders, grabbing at his hips and legs. Carefully, he's maneuvered onto his back and his first instinct is to suck in a breath to prepare for the impact of pain as he's settled. But again, he gags and coughs against the tube and he must wage a war against his rising panic. A war he would have lost, were he not able to finally open his tired eyes and SEE Poe standing across the room from him. 

Poe, who's hands are a wringing mess. Fingers interlocked as they create a quivering lattice work of emotions. Primarily concern and uselessness. Finn can read the feelings across the pilot's expressive features, and all he wants to do is struggle up. Cross the room. Throw his arms around his best friend and press a kiss to his lips. Their kiss had been .. brief, clumsy, and earth shattering. He kinda wants to repeat it again and again, even if it never gets better. Because mind-blowing can be good enough, right? 

"Good, Mr. Dameron. Now, this is going to hurt. I need you to release your breath and remain as still as possible. Commander Dameron, maybe you'd be so kind as to come over here, yes? This time, I think it best you take his hand, okay?" Poe moves so fast he could almost be flying. He swoops in to take Finn's outstretched hand between both of his. Cradling it as if it is precious cargo, and for the first time in his life, Finn thinks he may be just that. Precious. Worth something to someone.

And then the pain comes. It starts as a pinching deep in his throat, followed by a horribly burning sensation that travels up, into his mouth. He feels Poe squeezing his captured hand at the same moment he sees the tube dangling in the air before the doctor passes it off. 

"There. All done, Mr. Dameron. The IV will need to stay for now, but not for much longer. My staff will give you and Commander Dameron a moment alone while I fetch you some water. And then, I will be happy to answer any questions you have. Though, for now, please try not to talk too much, okay? At least, until I have time to examine you further." The doctor turns on his heel and exits the room, an almost oppressive silence descending in his wake as Poe and Finn stare each other down. It feels ... as if they are opponents sizing each other up, rather than possible friends. That is all kinds of epic wrongness to Finn, who still remembers falling asleep in shared beds and that single, life altering kiss.

"Poe .." He shatters the silence with a squawked word that draws Poe a little closer. The pilot's hand tightening on the Ex-stormtroopers as he waits to see if Finn will go further. It takes time. A few minutes tick by before the prone man can manage any more words. "What am I .. doing .. ba..ck in here? Did.. did something .. happen? Did .. I re...relapse?" By the end of his words, he is coughing. Each dry, rattling sound a shard shooting through Poe as he fights to figure out how he can help. The hell is that doctor with water!?

The thought of the doctor distracts him from what his friend says. Only after he has looked toward the door and back again, do the odd words register. His hands go lax around Finn's, before finally falling away. The look of bewilderment etched into his features makes Finn's stomach seize and clench in the worst way. Because instinct tells him that whatever is about to happen .. not good. 

"What? Finn, man .. what?" He groans softly when he repeats himself, a few not so nice self-aimed jokes rushing through his mind. He licks his lips, frowning. "Finn, buddy .. you haven't left here, to be -back-. I don't .. I don't know what you think happened." He hesitates for a moment, then steps closer to the bed. Reaches out to gently lay a hand on his shoulder. Warm, bare skin against warm, bare skin. It feels almost electric to them both, though they each fear to say anything. In case it's one sided. 

"I left. W-woke up.. got be..tter." He coughs again, and Poe's hand tightens on his shoulder. Trying so hard not to dig his nails into his friend's skin. "Got out .. fou..nd a place to st..ay. Remem..ber?" He coughs again, and Poe actually makes a whimpering sound. Because he hasn't the foggiest how he's supposed to help him. Well, water would solve the coughing, but the rest? None of that makes sense! None of that is something he can handle.

"I.." He struggles to speak, having no words. 

"Commander Dameron." The doctor steps in with a small tray and settles it on the table. Poe releases a quivering breath of relief, and feels his shoulders sag a bit. "If you would, I need some time with my patient." Finn immediately begins to panic. He reaches out for Poe's hand, a soft, pitiful whine eeked from his lips. 

"It'll be alright, Finn." Poe practically coos the words, trying to be reassuring as he reluctantly pulls his hand from his friend's. The action creates a physical ache in them both, but Finn manages not to reach for him again. "I'll be right outside, buddy. The moment the Doc's done, I'll be back. Okay?" He flashes that megawatt smile before he turns and rushes quickly from the room. Sooner the doctor talks to Finn, the sooner he can return, right?

The doctor grabs up something from the tray, walking over to check the IV bag. Once he's sure that it's still dripping correctly, he pours out a cup of water and hands it to Finn. Carefully helping the man take a few steady sips before he puts the cup back on the tray.

"Now. My name is Dr. Perrash Tsotsi, Mr. Dameron. I've been on your case since Chewbacca and Ms. Rey brought you into medbay. Now, I'm sure you have many questions, and I will do my best to answer them." Perrash turns and grabs a chair, dragging it close to the bed as he pulls out the datapad with Finn's patient information on it. 

"How long?" With the water having soothed his throat, he finally manages a complete sentence. Without realizing, he seeks out Poe. Hoping to see a look of relief and happiness on the pilot's face. It's only after he has searched for a few moments that he remembers the other man left the room. He hopes he doesn't blush too deeply as he looks back at the doctor.

"You have been out for about three weeks, Mr. Dameron. We put you into a medically induced coma. It took about three days for us to repair the actual damage done to your back with synthetic skin. It took another two weeks for the synthetic skin to give way to real skin. The remainder of the time was spent letting the muscles and nerves settle, so to speak. We've been waiting the past two days for you to awaken once we dropped you from the coma." Finn can feel his heart and breath speeding up. Can feel the tightness in his chest and cheeks, the dizziness running rampant through his head as he tries to process this. 

There's no reason for the doctor to lie. That's the first thing he has to remind himself of. The first fact he has to cement in his mind, else he really lose it. So then, if the doctor has no reason to lie why does he remember being out of here!? Why does he remember walking, eating, kissing Poe!? He sucks in a breath, feels it burn all the way down into his lungs.

"No. Remember .. waking up .. leaving medbay ... doing things around the Base." The words are a guttural refusal, colored by emotion and tears he does not realize he sheds. 

"I assure you, Mr. Dameron. You have been here the whole time." The doctor frowns for a moment, looking up from the datapad. "There have been recorded incidents of coma patients dreaming while they are under. I think .. well, I think you dreamed that you got better. Were there details of the happenings that made no sense?" He queues up a blank document, and begins writing notes as soon as Finn begins to explain.

"Well .. yeah. Small things, I guess. I .. I don't remember seeing much of the base. Mostly just .. rundown old rooms. Barely saw anyone but Poe and some people that I didn't know. But .. I don't know anyone, so it made sense. You .. weren't my doctor." He frowns deeply for a moment, struggling to remember. It all seems to be fading from his mind like ... like a dream. He bites back a whimper and barrels on. "Poe! He .. he would never tell me where Rey was. What .. happened to her .. but always insisted he had." He frowns darker, his hand flying up to his nose. "And yarrow! I kept smelling yarrow, no matter where I was. Poe said he could never smell it." The doctor hides a faint smile by bending over his pad, writing down what Finn said. So, Commander Dameron had been present in the man's coma dream? That didn't surprise him in the least. The two seemed very fond of each other. 

"Hmm .. well, it makes sense, Mr. Dameron. The rundown rooms were simple, easy for your mind to create and project. If they were rundown, you were not likely to see many people and your mind would not question the fact. As for Ms. Rey ... Commander Dameron could not tell you where she was, because you didn't know. Your mind could not supply information that it did not have. Yarrow .." Perrash trails off for a moment, his nose wrinkling in distaste. Truth be told, he cannot stand the scent of Yarrow, either. It is an antiseptic aroma to him. Indicative of trouble. "We had to use a yarrow paste when we applied the synthetic skin. Then, had to keep the affected area bathed in it, as the skin grew back. The last treatment of it is done, so it should fade soon. Commander Dameron brought you flowers to try and drown out the scent. I believe his favorite were rose and Whittle." 

Whittle. That word settles like a stone in his gut, and he huffs a deep, choked breath. The fight is still so fresh in his mind. Watching Poe scream with the flowers in his hand, the tone better remembered than the words. Though nothing as ingrained in his memory as the pain he had felt when Poe had left him there.

His breathing hitches, his hands curling into the sheets, twisting and rending at the fabric as he makes a valiant attempt at heading off a panic attack. What would be the point of panicking if it's not real? Because that is what Dr. Tsotsi is saying ... none of it happened. He hadn't driven Poe away. But he also hadn't ... kissed ... him. The feeling of loss is tangible. A spider web of cracks appearing across the reasoning center of his brain as he tries to force the tired organ to function at a capacity it simply isn't capable of. The headache is instant. It flares, a supernova of heat and light burning behind his eyes. Hands free themselves from the sheets to claw at eyes closed desperately against the pain.

"Mr. Dameron, I need you to try and take slow, careful breaths for me, okay? What you're experiencing is the beginnings of a panic attack. Just try to steady your breath and don't over extend it. It's going to be okay." The doctor speaks in soft, gentle tones, and yet, manages to inject just enough authority that Finn finds himself not just listening, but clinging to the tones. His breath hitches and wavers for a moment, before calming. Steadying. He draws on the doctors words and forces himself to breath normally. "Now, would you like to discuss what brought on that episode, Mr. Dameron?" He questions as he settles in his seat once more.

With those words, Finn feels another panic attack swooping down on him and barely manages to keep a tight hold on his breathing. Barely manages not to lose it all over again.

"No!" The word is a forceful denial that leaves the ex stormtrooper feeling empty and worn out. He struggles to push himself to a sitting position and nearly jumps from his own skin when the doctor appears to carefully stack pillows behind his healed back to help him remain sitting. Carefully, still so afraid of twinging his back, he curls into the pillows. Breath held tight and steady, released in a slow, trembled exhale when no pain comes.

He should be relieved. Hell, he should be wiggling a jaunty jig in his bed because he is alive, awake. And since no statement has been made otherwise, he assumes he is going to be okay. So then .. why does he feel anything -but- okay? It's more than just the knowledge that everything that transpired between Poe and him is nothing more than a fever dream ... so much more. It's the fact that he is now right back to being scared, alone, and misplaced. 

The fact that Rey's fate is still a blind-spot he has no answer for! Poe is okay, but Rey?? He inhales deeply, breath quivering as he tries to head off further panic. What the hell is up with that? He has never had a panic attack before. Never had to worry about losing it the way he almost had moments ago. And now, he is struggling just to keep some semblance of control over himself.

Maker, but it feels like being a part of the First Order all over again! The feeling of abject terror he used to get when he realized he had exactly no control over his own existence, his own fate. 

"Alright, Mr. Dameron. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want." The doctor smiles faintly before standing, grabbing up the cup of water to carry to his poor patient. He cannot even begin to understand what the young man must be going through because he has never met a Stormtrooper face to face before. Not like this. Truth be told, the Resistance could learn a lot from studying the young man in various ways, but he really doesn't think anyone would be okay with such a thought. Finn and Poe at the forefront of that line. Having observed the fighter pilot sitting vigil at the young man's side .. he finds it hard to believe that Poe would allow anything to cause the younger man any kind of discomfort like that.

Hell, even the General would not be likely to suggest such a thing. Maybe tactical appraisal here and there as it is needed, but never a full blown study of the man.

"T-thank you, Doctor." The sheer volume of raw emotion in Finn's voice nearly causes the doctor to drop the cup, but he manages to guide it to the young mans lips, helping him drink. Once he is done, the cup is returned to the tray, the doctor frowning vaguely as he watches Finn. The Ex-Stormtrooper is going to be troublesome, though not in a bad way or anything, per se. But the innocence about him .. the sort of raw feelings he inspires in other people .. that will be interesting to watch develop as time passes.

"Rest, Mr. Dameron. I'll ask Poe to return." He's not in the least bit surprised to see both happiness and fear ghost across his patient's features at the thought of Poe. He turns on his heel, walking for the door. He barely makes it into the hall before Poe is upon him. All wide eyes and anxiety. He reaches out to place a steady hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently to try and reassure the poor man that his ... friend ..... is alright.

"Finn is going to be fine, Poe. At the moment, he's suffering a bit of displacement, due to fever dreams during his coma. Beyond that, though, he's good. Speaking normally and lingering pain seems to be doing better as well. I'll send a nurse in within the next half hour or so to administer some pain medication. Until then, feel free to sit with him. I think ... I think he really needs you at the moment, Poe." He pulls his hand away, turning to check on a few other patients he currently has at the moment. Poe breathes deeply, turning to face the door to the room, though not yet walking through. He tries, he really does, but hesitation stays his feet. Hands pluck and prod each other, wringing in agitation as he takes a few moments to compose himself before heading in to see his friend. 

Alive. Awake. Okay.

* * *

How strange is it, that something as soft, supple and giving as pillows can feel like a wall? Like brick or concrete masking as feathers and stuffing. Finn stiffens, back aching with memory of light and pain. Burning. For one terrible moment, he thinks he can smell the remnants of scorched skin and burning hair. Of cold snow and hot light, of blood and cauterized leather. He turns, rolls with a speed surprising as he fights against the emptiness of his stomach. Fights against the desire to spew bile into the nearest receptacle. 

"Finn." Poe's voice is a beacon in a storm of sickness, confusion and fear. A spotlight that illuminates Finn, a lifeline in a single word. A single presence.

"Poe." The name trickles from pursed lips. A lone word that displays the Ex-stormtroopers wounded soul as he fights with himself. Fights his own body, now a foreign organism holding him hostage. A prison of rebellious flesh and pain. "Where's Rey, Poe? Is she okay? Is she on her way? Please, tell me!" A decibel of desperation paints his words as hysteria creeps up into every syllable. Within the next moment, Poe has settled uneasily on the side of the bed. Scooped Finn's hand up to clutch it tenderly between his own two, and it telegraphs the wrong message. Finn assumes he is being prepared for the worst. That Poe is getting ready to report tragic news and expects him to break down.

"She's okay, buddy. Rey is okay. I promise to tell you everything I know, Finn, but not yet. Okay? You need to rest a little more. The Nurse will be coming in to give you something for the pain and it will probably put you to sleep." 

"No! Damn it, Poe, you can't keep doing this to me, man. Every time I ask, you change the subject, refuse to talk, or just flat out lie and say you've already told me. Please ... please! Tell me what happened to her!" Finn's words are a desperate, needy wail, and Poe finds himself stunned into silence. He knows, without a doubt, that they never had the chance to talk about any of this. Knows that Finn has been in a medically induced coma this entire time, so when could they -ever- have talked about Rey? And then he remembers. The doctor said that Finn had fever dreams while he was out. He feels heat leap to his cheeks. Knows that he is flushed with a deep, probably crimson blush. Because that means Finn -dreamed- about him. 

"Finn, buddy .." He coaxes softly, but sternly. His hands tighten on the trembling one caught between them, applying careful pressure to try and draw the other man's attention to him, in hopes of heading off the hysteria he heard building in Finn's voice. "Please, just relax, okay?" He knows that he's pleading now. Almost -begging- the younger man to calm down. 

Finn sucks in a ragged breath, struggling to focus on the warm pressure surrounding his hand. He uses it to anchor him. To pluck him from the clutches of anxiety and panic. Several slow, deep breaths later, and he has calmed down. He's practically limp with emotional exhaustion, his eyes so heavy lidded he cannot keep them open. 

"Oh, Finn .." Poe whispers softly, and after a moment of hesitation, he finds himself doing the unthinkable. He drops the man's hand .. and then carefully crawls up, into the bed. At any moment, expects to be yelled at. Maybe hit with a pillow or a hand, expressly told to get the hell out of there. But it never comes. Once Poe has settled on his back on the side of the bed, he would swear he feels Finn relax. Almost as if the man is breathing easier now. This thought emboldens him. He still hesitates, but after a moment, he turns onto his side. Slips his arm ever so gently along the covered curve of Finn's waist. 

This time, he doesn't have to speculate about the man's reaction. Because he feels him relax beneath his arm. Feels the soft steadying of Finn's breath. As the other man relaxes, Poe finds himself doing the same. His breathing regulates, his body slowly grows lax as he rests against his friend.

"Rey is fine, Finn. She managed to take Kylo Ren down and then Chewie got you to the Falcon." He murmurs the words in a soft, even voice. Trying to soothe even as he explains. "We took down Starkiller Base, and managed to recover the map to find Skywalker." Poe tells himself that he will not sound bitter or angry, but he does. The moment the word Skywalker leaves his mouth, it is twisted and angry. He just can't keep the negative emotion out of it. Because he -still- blames the Jedi for the fact that Rey is gone and Finn nearly died. That Han Solo -is- dead. "Chewie and Rey took the Falcon to find the Jedi. She sat with you a few times. Came in and said goodbye right before she left." He hopes that all of this will help his friend. Calm him and give him hope.

Minutes tick by. Stretching on and on until Poe feels as if he's going to start squirm across the bed. This was a mistake. Climbing up here, putting an arm around Finn ... inundating him with all of this information .. it's a giant mistake! So, he starts to pull away. Begins to extricate his arm from the waist he clutches, only to feel a hand suddenly there. Squeezing. Cling to his arm.

"P-please .. don't go, Poe." Finn's words are so soft he has to strain to catch them all and still isn't sure he heard them right. That is, until he feels the hand squeeze again and manages to look up. Right into Finn's scared, imploring eyes. "N-none of this .. makes any sense. I ... I feel so ... lost." He bites down a sob, his lips compressing into a thin, quivering line as he struggles to keep the next sob from breaking free. Poe feels a pinch in his chest and he knows that his heart is aching for the poor ex-Stormtrooper. 

"It's okay, buddy. We'll figure this all out, okay?" He tries to flash one of his best smiles, but it barely registers as a twitching of his lips. And yet, it must be enough, because the barely held sob becomes a shaky exhale and a watery smile. "That's it, Finn." He murmurs reassuringly, his arm tightening around the other man's waist, his eyes slowly fluttering closed as he holds him. 

".. -we- .. will?" The anguish and need in Finn's voice almost proves too much for Poe. He turns his head quickly, his face pushed into the other man's pillow to try and stave off the tears that burn the backs of his eyes. The last thing the poor man needs to see is that someone he is relying on for strength, is close to tears.

"Yeah, Finn .. -we- will." He emphasizes the word WE, hoping that the Ex-Stormtrooper understands. They barely know one another ... they have been through hell and back together and apart ... and now, they are in this together, however it pans out. They are WE, for as long as Finn needs them to be.

"Thank you, Poe." The words are barely uttered before the door to the room opens, a grim-faced nurse shuffling in silently. She walks for the bedside, paying no mind to the two men curled together. Her only concern is the IV and the small contraption held in her hand. She grasps the tubing, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she fits the contraption to the IV. It runs a quick analysis and then injects something into the tubing.

"Please wrap up your conversation, Poe. Mr. Dameron should be asleep within the next five minutes or so .. and the Doctor will not be happy if you try and stay. It's about time you went and got some sleep yourself, young man." She clucks in soft, disapproving, yet caring, tones, before she turns and sweeps out of the room.

About two and a half minutes after the nurse has left, Finn feels the slow seep of lethargy through his limbs. His eyes refuse to remain open, his body going lax as he rests. And yet, he still has enough wits about him to murmur a soft question.

"... Poe? Why .. does everyone .. think ... my name is -Dameron-?" He struggles to try and open his eyes, to look down where his friend is still curled into him, but he doesn't have the strength. The last thing he hears before he drifts off to sleep, is a half strangled EEP from his friend.

* * *


	4. Staircase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the finale! I want to thank everyone who stuck by this story.

* * *

I dream I am a prince  
or a knight  
in shining removable armor.

I think too much when I kiss.  
If love did not exist  
I would be so goddamn sane.

You have a heart of gold  
and I am kneeling in your bloodstream  
panning for the only thing that has ever felt like home.

We never fall.  
We always Jump.  
We always  
jump.

* * *

"Wakey-wakey, dude!" The sound of a surprisingly feminine voice snaps Finn from his sleep. He bolts upright on his bed, eyes wide and blurry from sleep-tears. He blinks rapidly to dislodge them, wincing as the cold sludge seeps down his cheeks, clearing his vision enough to see a woman perched on a chair across the room from him. Her long black hair is pulled into a ponytail, showing off her rounded features. 

"Uhm .. huh?" Finn reaches up to rub at his eyes with the pads of his first finger and thumb, dislodging more sleep debris so that he can focus on the woman. "Do I know you .. dude?" He repeats the word dude with uncertainty, not quite sure what it's supposed to mean. Though thankfully, it doesn't offend the woman, since she laughs a bit at the word. 

"Yeah, Poe told me you have a problem with some words." She grins lightly, pushing up, off her chair and walking to the bed. She plops on the side of it as if she belongs there. As if she's been invading his space and settling where she wants to since they were kids or something. Finn likes it. It endears him to her instantly.

"Not exactly a diverse language in the First Order." He points out dryly, and she actually laughs at the words. She reaches toward the bedside table, grabbing up a small cup of ice chips. 

"Well don't worry, Finn. We'll show you the linguistic ropes!" She spoons an ice chip free and holds it out to him. With a quirked brow, he takes it from the spoon, sighing as it melts on his tongue. Trickles down his throat and soothes his bruised vocal chords. 

"No offense, ma'am, but .. who -are- you?" He manages to mumble the question around a second mouthful of ice chip when she offers it. She plops the spoon into the cup so that she can clasp her now free hand to her heart.

"Oh, truly, you wound me, sir!" She grins lightheartedly, putting the cup back down before leaping up from the bed. She places one arm in front of her, one behind, and dips a mirthful bow, her eyes never leaving his astonished features. "Jessika Pava, at your service, sir! Though, most call me Testor." 

Testor? Finn tries to place it, but can't. Not that it really matters. He instantly understands. Carefully, he settles the thin sheet around himself.

"Ah. You're a member of Poe's Squadron." A statement, not a question. It made sense. At least, as much sense as a woman he has never met showing up in his sick room -can- make sense.

"That transparent, am I?" She intones sweetly before settling on the side of the bed again. He shrugs his left shoulder lightly, and after a moment, shakes his head no.

"No. But, I can't really imagine anyone else that would want to come see me." Jess' eyes widen in surprise and she looks around the room for a moment. He cannot discern her expression, but he has a feeling that it isn't a good one, per se. She stands and walks toward the door, cracking it open to peer out. He has no way of knowing that she had performed this exact action several times thus far. 

"Wow. Are you serious?" She snorts with laughter, until she realizes that yes, he really -is- serious. She clears her throat and shakes her head slowly. "Finn, -every one- wants to meet you. Hell, if it weren't for us, on Poe's -orders-, there'd be dozens of people in here every hour, on the hour. Everyone wants to meet the Stormtrooper that defected to the Resistance. The -only- Stormtrooper to ever get away from the First Order! The man that risked -everything- to save his friend, bring down the shields on Starkiller, and helped blow up the thermal oscillator so that Poe could take out that horrible weapon!" She moves to the edge of the bed, leaning forward so that they are eye-to-eye. "Finn, you helped save the Resistance! Every man, woman, and child here, you helped save. Starkiller was moments from killing every one that opposes the First Order. You're a hero, dude!" 

Finn's eyes have steadily grown wider. Disbelief, confusion, and the barest hint of hope. That he can actually -mean- something. That he is now more than an impersonal number. A cookie-cutter set of white armor among a sea of the same.

"I .. I never thought of it that way. I mean .." He frowns down at his hand. Studying the contrasting color of his mocha skin against the eggshell white of the sheet. "Do people really see me that way, Testor?" His voice cracks on her nickname, and she finds her heart going out to him. He really is exactly as Poe described him; sweet, innocent, and in desperate need of a hug. Or twenty. Thousand.

"Oh, Finn." She is acting before her brain can telegraph the fact. She reaches out, wrapping her arms gently around his shoulders in a hug. He goes rigid and completely still. For about five seconds. And then, he is sinking into her embrace. Melting into the hug with a quiet need. He hugs gently back, squeezes softly before they part. "Yes, Finn. People see you that way. Hell, I don't even know you and -I- see you that way!" She grins suddenly. "You're right up there with the legendary Skywalker, as far as I'm concerned. Because you risked it all to do the right thing, Finn. That is fucking amazing!" 

She watches in awe as Finn lights up. A spark ignites inside him and he is beaming and it's beautiful, mesmerizing. She feels as if she is being drawn in. There is a flame inside of Finn. It is the light of life, of purity and it kindles a need inside of her. She is a lioness and she will protect that purity with everything that she is! 

"Thank you, Jessika." He intones shyly, and she is reaching out again. She can't, and doesn't want, to stop herself. So very gently, she pulls Finn's hand into her own, cradling it as she watches him.

"Nothing to thank me for, Dameron. Just telling the truth." She shrugs her shoulders lightly, squeezes his hand, and then reluctantly lets go. "I gotta jet soon, Finn. I think Snap will be here in a little while." She stands from the bed, stretching lithely before she turns and heads for the door. "If you need anything, call for a nurse, Dameron. No reason to suffer if you don't have to, dude." She flashes him a friendly smile before ducking out of the room.

Finn grins after her, carefully repositioning himself on the bed to get comfortable again. Maybe things aren't as dire as he had feared they would be.

* * *

Dreams. He dreams of whittle and harsh words. Of a clumsy kiss and heartbeat so rapid that he feels lightheaded. He dreams of the First Order and the Resistance. But mostly, he dreams of pain. Of light like fire that scalds and brands. Cauterized leather and burned flesh. He awakens with a hoarse scream that never reaches the volume of a whisper, but still manages to telegraph the amount of pain and agony he's feeling. 

"Relax." The word is a murmur that has the potential to become a shout with little prodding. A powerful voice compressed into a reassuring whisper. And it works. Almost instantly, Finn calms. "A dream." Finn sucks in a sour breath and feels it flow through him. When he exhales, he feels himself loosening where he lays and the world is no longer a boa constrictor clenched about his throat and heart. He can breath .. see .... exist. He is not a broken shell of a man drowning in a face full of snow with skin reduced to crackling embers by a lightsaber.

"T-thanks." The word is a wheezing prayer of gratitude as he forces himself to a careful sitting position. Even knowing that his back is healed, he is treating himself with kid gloves. The exact opposite of how he acted in his fever dream. "Are, uhm .. are you Snap?" 

"Yeah." The word is light, straight to the point. A strategic delivery of pertinent information before the large man relapses into simmering silence. It is not oppressive. Isn't overbearing or smothering. It's comforting and comfortable all at once, and Finn breathes easy. Settles into a routine of relaxation, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Testor told me you were going to be here." His head cants to the side, one blurry eye fluttering closed so that he can focus on the man before him. "She said something about .. you two being here .. on his orders." He feels no need to elaborate. Why name the man when it could only be one Him?

"Yup. Volunteered." A new piece of information that doesn't surprise him. After all, Jessika made it sound as if they had reason to be in awe of his presence or something. (That will take time to get used to, though he's pretty sure he never will. How does one get used to being placed upon a pedestal when such a possibility has never existed before?) 

"What? Why?" Is it rude to question? Rude to want to know why someone would volunteer to be a glorified babysitter for a complete stranger? Will Snap think he is fishing for validation?? He stuffs those questions down deep, placing them inside some imaginary box within his mind. 

"Reasons." A singular word with a plethora of meaning. Silently, Finn waits for elaboration, for explanation, but none is forthcoming. Snap turns away from the bed, shuffles across the stark white floor to settle on a chair resting against the wall. Time ticks on, not particularly awkward, but not as comfortable as time with Testor had been. It is merely .. time consuming. Yes, time is time consuming and that makes perfect sense in Finn's mind, even if it would be silly spoken aloud.

"Care to elaborate?" The question is issued from reluctant lips, Finn scooting down on the bed until the pillow is stacked against his back. Propping him temporarily as he stares across the gap separating him from his visitor. Minder?

"Depends."

"... on?" Maker, but each word is labored. Drawn like splinters from beneath his skin. He is not used to this, to facing someone so succinctly silent! 

"Why." Snap lifts a bushy brow over a warm eye, and Finn exhales sharply. Frustration is fastly overtaking him, and he spits a breath of frustration before fully laying on his back again.

"Oh, for --" Finn cuts himself off. Forcefully ends his own sentence before spewing something he would likely regret. "Because, Snap. You're perched in my room. Giving minimal answers in place of conversation. You admitted to being here on a voluntary basis, so tell me why. Or settle in silence." He doesn't mean to sound demanding. Doesn't even mean to give an ultimatum, but he is tired. Cranky without reason. 

"Okay." Finn's hands tighten in the sheets, nails nearly shredding the flimsy edge of it in his surliness. Snap leans forward in the chair. Rests his elbows on his knees as he stares across the distance. Just stares. Studying everything there is to study about the Ex-Stormtrooper. The way he clutches and pulls at the sheets. The myriad of emotions that play across his features. The shorter breaths, longer breaths, gasps and silent grunts. Each piece of information cataloged for reasons only he knows.

Finn fumbles with the cloth again, his hands suddenly feel limp and uncooperative. Atrophied muscles picking this moment of his emotional state to die momentarily. Snap is up in a second. Silently striding across the floor to grasp the sheets and settle them more comfortably around the younger man. Finn's eyes widen. Lashes fanning out in surprise that the man that was proving to exist in a brand new spectrum of annoying, could do something so kind without prompting. 

"Thanks." He manages to croak, his gaze dropping instantly. He doesn't want to -have- to thank anyone. He wants to be up and about, taking care of himself. Contributing. In the First Order, if you were down, you were out. If you were not useful, you were discarded. He is terrified of such a thing happening. 

"This isn't the First Order." The words catch Finn by surprise. He physically startles, his head snapping back up. Wide, confused eyes settled on the burly man that hovers above him. Had he spoken out loud? Surely, he had to have said something, for Snap to perceive his thoughts so clearly?? "You're an open book, kid." The older man cracks a tired smile, and Finn reaches up to touch his own cheek. As if, somehow, he can -read- that open book. This causes Snap to chuckle a little, to shake his head. "It's not something you can feel, Finn. But it's there. Written plain as day, man. Poe's the same way. His thoughts and feelings are written there for anyone to see." Snap's eyes narrow, serpentine to slits and there is an intensity there that almost scares Finn. Definitely confuses him. Because it feels like Snap is trying to communicate something nonverbally, but that is a language that Finn just isn't fluent in.

"He is?" He casts out the question for lack of anything else to say. Though, only after the question is presented, does it occur to him .. Snap is the silent type. He could've kept his mouth shut and every thing would be fine. So, maybe, he asked from a partial need for clarification, as well. 

"Yeah." Snap reaches out to the side of the bed, grabbing up the cup of ice chips. He struggles to fish one out with the spoon, the tip of his tongue thrusting from the corner of his mouth in an almost comical display of concentration as he holds the spoon out for Finn to take the ice. "He thinks he's this stoic badass .. and yeah, he's pretty badass. He's been through a hell of a lot, but stoic? Not so much." Snap fishes out a second piece, frowning a little as Finn takes it. "When we landed, after Starkiller .. when he saw you were hurt .." Snap's eyes grow distant and he swallows heavily. "We chased him through the base, screaming his name. Trying to figure out what happened. We got here, and they were just starting to look after you. They were gonna throw Poe's .. -your- jacket away and I honestly thought he was going to get violent over it. It took a lot to make him leave so that he could report to the General."

Finn stares, his mouth hanging open. A sliver of ice melting away on his tongue as he does. In awe. Confusion. An overwhelming influx of emotion he is not yet equipped to handle. When he feels a little bit of cold water start to dribble from the corner of his open mouth, he realizes how foolish he must look, so he quickly closes it. Glances up and breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes that Snap is too glassy-eyed to have seen the embarrassing moment.

"What the hell happened between you two?" The question is spoken with a bit of an edge, a protectiveness that catches Finn off guard. His first instinct is to clam up. It is no ones business, after all. But .. Snap is Poe's friend, not to mention a member of his squad. Would it be okay to tell him?

"I .." Finn's mouth slips closed. His eyes close tightly for a moment and he struggles to decide. "I think you should ask Poe, Snap. Maybe he can explain it better, because I don't even understand most of it myself." Before Snap can say anything, the door opens and a Nurse appears. 

"Hello, Mr. Dameron. It's good to see you're awake again. Mr. Wexley." She nods to Snap as she makes her way to Finn's bedside. She sets a covered plate on the side of the bed, before she picks the patient's hand up, taking his pulse. She makes a soft noise and nods. "How is your back feeling?" 

"Twinges a little, but that's the muscles more than the skin. When can I get out of here?" 

"I'm not sure yet, Mr. Dameron. The doctor should be by to check on you in a few hours. Hopefully, you'll find out then. For now, see if you can eat something. Mr. Wexley, time for you to go. I think he's had enough visitors for now." Snap's eyes widen. Then more .. and more ... until they are huge with disbelief. Because he's finding it odd that the nurse is calling Finn DAMERON. When the hell had that happened!? Oh, he and Poe need to have a talk, it seems.

"Later." With the emotions of earlier interrupted by the nurse appearing, he has slipped back into the single word answers. He turns and heads quietly out of the room, leaving Finn to poke at his dinner. Now too emotionally raw to really want anything.

* * *

"Come on, BB-8." Poe chides his droid friend softly, groaning as it comes barrelling at his legs, beeping and blipping and driving him crazy! "Whoa! Be careful before you knock me down!" He grunts, barely managing to dance out of range before the droid does just that.

"If BB-8 don't knock you down .. I might." Poe jumps for a much different reason this time. He spins on his heel, his eyes slowly raising several inches so that he's staring Snap in the eyes. He can feel a muscle under his eye twitch.

"What the hell, man? I thought you were at medbay!?" 

"I was. Nurse made me leave, it was time for MISTER DAMERON to eat." Of course he has to emphasize those two words. Because COME ON! He stares intently at the shorter, younger man, eyes narrowed. Lips curled into a silent growl. Waiting patiently for an explanation. 

"I, uh .. I'm glad he's eating." He coughs as he tries to sidestep the implied question. Two can play this game. If Snap wants to know something, he can come right out and ask. So, Poe stares silently back at him. Waiting just as patiently, on the outside. On the inside? He's freaking out and he doesn't have the first clue WHY! So what if the nurses and doctor think Finn's last name is Dameron? It's not like anyone thinks they're married or anything! It's just .. a last name .. it doesn't mean anything.

"Damn it, Poe! Why is Finn being called Dameron?" Poe stares into his eyes. Furiously unwavering. "GRR! So, is Rey a Dameron now, too?" He snipes, the words a guttural growl as he tries his hardest to stare down his friend. Who's having none of it!

"What?! No! I don't even know Rey, Tem." He actually makes a face at that thought. Not that he has anything against the young woman! Not in the least! He had gotten along with her really well when they talked. But .. she's not Finn. That is the only illogically logical reason he can come up with for the oogy feeling he gets at the thought of her sharing his name. Even as a sister would be .. odd. 

"And you've know the Stormtrooper for the same amount of time, Dameron!" The burly man barks these words right into his friend's face, heaving with anger and emotion. It is unclear what reaction he was expecting, and his features give nothing away when Poe reaches up and jabs a finger against his chest.

"EX Stormtrooper, Wexley, and I better not -ever- hear you call him that again!" Poe jabs the bohemoth's chest once more, his teeth bared as he glares at him. "Finn left the First Order behind and has proven that truth several times over. He is NOT a Stormtrooper anymore, he's my -friend-!" He is practically snarling now, his free hand a shaking fist at his hip. It speaks to his character that he has not taken a swing like he wants.

"... HAHAHA!" Snap throws his massive head back, allowing a loud, raucous laugh to erupt from deep inside his belly. He reaches out, claps Poe on the shoulder with a large paw of a hand, nearly knocking the poor pilot off his feet. "THAT is what I wanted to hear, Poe." The best pilot in the Resistance's mouth falls open, his eyes slightly glazed as he stares up at his squademate. Dumbfounded. What the hell just happened here!? 

"Huh??" He oh so 'greatly' articulates, still gobsmacked. 

"He'll make a great addition to our family, Poe. He's a good kid. Testor has already adopted him, so I guess I'm making it official." Snap winks at his friend as he steps around him. "It's good to have another little brother." He calls out as he walks away, Poe unmoving from his perplexed stance. 

"... I will never get used to him." He grouses, jumping when BB-8 beeps from somewhere to his right. Oops, he totally forgot his droid was there! "Stop bitching, 8. Do me a favor?" He switches gears half way through his sentence, sliding down to a crouch to look his friend in the 'face.' "Go see Finn for me, okay? The Nurses won't run you out. Just .. keep anyone from bugging him, okay? Thanks." He pats the droid, grinning at it's affirmative blip before it takes off in the direction of Finn's room.

* * *

Finn stares at the half-empty plate settled in his lap. He had managed to down part of .. whatever it is. It's not protein mush, supplement shakes, or any other facsimile of food that the First Order forced them to consume. Therefore he doesn't know what it is. He liked it well enough, which is good, but his appetite is still recovering. So, he carefully lifts the plate, struggling to make his hands cooperate, until it is resting on the bedside time. 

Or, well, that is where it -would- be resting, if BB-8's trilling BEEP hadn't startled him so much that the plate tumbles to the ground and cracks into five distinct, food crusted pieces. 

"Damn it, BB-8!" He shouts angrily, staring at the goopy, sharp mess with a groan. As if he weren't already feeling so damn useless in all of this. 

"BEEP, blip blip beEEP beEEP!!" The enthusiastic, ear splitting mechanical noises are doing very little to help his already frayed nerves as he carefully lowers himself out of the bed. Promptly grunting in pain as one of the pieces of plate stabs him in the knee. He tries to ignore the searing fire of the puncture as he begins to clear the mess up.

"BEEP! BEEPBEEPBEEP!!" BB-8's 'voice' has risen into a high enough register that it sounds like a shrill, shrieking scream and Finn must abandon the clean up to cover his ears with his palms. He starts to move and the resurgence of burning pain in his knee draws a yelp from his lips.

"BB-8!" A nurse roars as she storms into the room. "There is no need to scream, I am sure Mr. Dameron is -- Finn!" The nurse rushes forward, mouth a wide O of surprise and concern when she sees him kneeling on the floor. The acrid stench of copper almost turns her stomach as she nears him. The sight of blood swirling with food particles does little to relax that sensation. "Blessed Maker! What did you do, young man?" She gasps as she grasps him by the shoulder and carefully lifts him back, into the bed. He howls in pain and she immediately leans down to check his knee. Flinching discreetly when she realizes there are pieces of ceramic in the wound.

"I need you to sit still, dear. I will be right back. BB-8! Please carry yourself to the corner and stay out of the way." The droid remains where it is for a moment, just watching Finn. He is surprised when he looks up and somehow realizes that he can -see- the worry on the droid and that robs him of breath.

"I'll be fine, buddy." He drawls out wearily to BB-8, who gives a somewhat subdued Beep before rolling into the corner to wait. Watching intently. Though Finn doesn't seem to realize he used the word -buddy- toward the droid, BB-8 notes it for later. Because of course it has to tell Poe that Finn called it buddy! Like Poe does! 

"Finn, dear, I need you to try and sit still. I can't give you any more meds at the moment, so this .. is going to hurt." She smiles apologetically as she settles on the side of the bed with a pair of tweezers. As soon as BB-8 hears the word hurt, it turns and takes off out of the room. In search of Poe.

The nurse carefully applies a basic topical anesthetic, the best she can do to try and numb away some of the pain. Finn carefully leans back on the bed, his hands dug tightly into the sheets under him as he waits. He can vaguely remember some kind of training to be elsewhere in his mind when pain comes, but he cannot access most of it. It had been part of the training that he hadn't really taken to. Part of the training that he was supposed to be reconditioned to.

He hisses in pain, eyes flowing closed, his hands tightening, shaking, as the first piece of ceramic is fished out. 

"I am sorry, Finn. I will do this as quick and careful as I can." She murmurs in practiced, soothing tones as she continues to try and cautiously dig out the shards.

"Y-yeah." He breathes the word in rather than exhale it. Fingers twine more heavily in the clammy sheet beneath him, trapping the material between sweaty digits. Struggling to keep his composure when all he wants to do is scream for his own stupidity. Because this is his fault. He could have left the mess for another to clean up and there would have been no shame in it. In fact, it would have been the smart move, rather than falling to his knees in the midst of the disaster, injuring himself.

"Finn?" The sound of Poe's voice forces his eyes to open, to search out the source of the sound. And there is Poe. A few patches of grease on his orange jump suit, which is pooled around his waist, leaving his torso in a grimy wife beater. Finn actually laughs, the sound quivering with a mix of pain and mirth when he sees a few small streaks of grease on his friend's nose and through his bangs.

"Hey ... Poe .." Each word is forced from lips pursed with pain. Small beads of sweat stand out on the ex-Stormtroopers brow as he battles to keep his breathing as even as possible. It is a war he is quickly losing. Quick .. steady .... gasp, grunt ... quick ... his breathing is cycling through so many different stages and he is beginning to feel a little lightheaded.

"How in the -hell- did you manage to injure yourself when you're supposed to be -recuperating- in a -hospital bed-, Finn??" Poe snaps out, his fear for his friend getting the better of him. 

"Less ... bitching, Poe .. more .. getting your .. skinny .. ass over here ... please!" His breath is coming in quick, panicked gasps now. He manages to pry a hand from the bed sheet as the nurse tugs at a piece of awkwardly lodged ceramic. The gasp becomes a trembled keen as his now free hand flexes. Held pleadingly toward the man he calls friend. 

"Right!" Poe yelps, fingers interlocked with Finn's before either of them take their next breath. After a moment of consideration, he has settled on the bed next to the man. Pressed close until their bodies line up perfectly. "Sorry for taking so long." He teases lightly, knocking his shoulder feather soft against his friend's.

" S'okay, Poe." He grimaces, his hand tightening in the pilot's as a particularly wrecked shard of ceramic is pulled from his knee. The nurse gasps faintly as she grabs a piece of gauze and quickly staunches the flow of blood the last piece of debris has caused. Finn's breath flees in a stuttered cry of pain, and Poe wraps an arm around him.

"Can't you give him something, damn it?" The pilot demands angrily, the sense of helplessness leaving him feeling dizzy and frustrated. The nurse actually glares at him.

"Do you think I am simply sitting here torturing him, Commander Dameron? That I am taking some sort of .. sadistic pleasure in working on him without painkillers?" When Poe gives her an exasperated shake of the head, she turns back to her job. "Then do not ask stupid questions, dear." She snarks, and then immediately jumps in surprise when Finn growls. Actually growls. Like a rather angry beast of some sort. 

"Watch it .. ma'am." He cautions gutturally, his teeth clenching so painfully that his jaw pops softly. Even when the woman in front of him has the power to make him suffer so much worse than he already is, he is quick to stick up for Poe. The nurse stiffens, her hands stilling for a moment. Before she nods.

"Right. Sorry." She murmurs, standing to remove the gauze before stepping to the side of the room. She washes her hands, grabs a few things and then returns to him. "Try to breathe and don't tense up, Finn." She tries the soothing voice again, missing the wrathful glare Poe gives her. On instinct, he reaches up to slide his hand across Finn's cheek. Pulling the younger man's face around, so that they are eye to eye. Trying to distract him.

"Was gonna come by and see you after I got cleaned up." His words seem to conjure understanding in him. He forgot he's still covered in grease and grime, and he groans internally. But none of that matters at the moment. Distraction for his friend. THAT is what is important. "General Organa told me that Rey is due to update soon. She wants to know if you want to take a few minutes to talk to her." He's grinning now. Because he knows. This is probably the best news he could be bringing Finn and the ex-Stormtrooper definitely seems to need it at the moment.

"...REALLY!?" He squeaks. Actually squeaks. Like a mouse that has just found the largest hunk of cheese in it's existence. He snakes his arm around Poe's shoulders and turns his head. His lips brush feather soft across Poe's cheek, feeling the fair rub of stubble across his mouth, tasting the salty remnants of sweat. And, of course, able to feel the sudden flood of heat into the pilot's skin. Poe blushes so deeply that he turns a splotchy shade of puce, but Finn doesn't seem to acknowledge it. Despite all influx of sensory information, he's too damn excited to fully catalog and consider it all. "Holy hell, Poe, that's the best news ever!" He huffs a happy breath, and Poe actually shudders in the embrace. Finn's breath is hot and wet and a trail of goosebumps across his skin makes him feel electric and alive. 

"I thought that might brighten your day, buddy." The look of ecstasy on the younger man's face is palpable and it eases the anxiety in the pilot.

"All done, Finn." The nurse interjects, smiling faintly as she stands from the bed and moves to finish cleaning up. "Erm, not to ... dampen your good news, but the doctor will have to okay you going to the comm hub." This news is met with mirror looks of challenge from both Damerons. 

"Nuh-uh! No way in hell, lady! I'm gonna speak to Rey one way or another!" When Finn begins to try and move his freshly patched knee so that he can get up, Poe groans. He quickly grabs at his friend's side, making sure to keep him immobile before he does something foolish. Again. 

"Calm down, buddy." He murmurs, close to the man's ear before he pulls back. Pins his best authoritative look on the nurse. He even pushes his voice up, into his Commander Tone. "Ma'am, the General -herself- wishes Finn to attend this call. Which means that nothing is going to stand in the way of that happening." He leans forward a bit, his eyes narrowing as he regards her. "I don't care if I have to break him out of here and carry him up there myself." These words are met with a look of deep-seated, unabashed hero worship from the ex-Stormtrooper, though Poe is still focused on the woman, missing the look.

"What sin did I commit in my past life, that the Maker saddles me with the two most stubborn men in the whole Resistance?!" She sighs, rubbing her palm across her forehead before shaking her head. "Excuse me." She turns then and heads out, far too tired to deal with this right now. That's for the General and the doctor to handle.

"Poe ... thanks. You're the best friend a guy could ever have." Finn is staring up at him. His eyes are wide and soft, shining with adoration and worship, and Poe cannot stare into them too long. Because he will drown. He will get lost and never want to leave their warmth and acceptance, and how in the world had he managed to survive without eyes like that trained on him before?!

"Th-thanks, Finn." He stammers through the words, clearing his throat as he tries to battle down a blush, barely managing to keep it contained. "Now, how in the world did you manage to hurt your knee, buddy?" The pilot shifts until he's settled on the bed comfortably. Legs stretched out in front of him, his hand still holding the younger man's lightly. Their bodies line up perfectly, leg to leg, hip to hip, and shoulder to shoulder. This comforts them both.

"Ugh." Finn groans, glancing to the ground beside his bed, where the mess still resides. "I was trying to put my tray on the bedside table, but .. damn it, my hands are kind of .. weak. And BB-8 came in beeping and startled me. It fell and broke and I got angry. So, I kinda just threw myself off the bed to clean it up, and landed on a piece of broken plate. BB freaked out and apologized and I guess went to get you when the nurse told me that it was going to hurt." He glances over in time to see amusement and exasperation play across his friend's features. 

"Well, that was a stupid move, man, but I'm glad that you are starting to understand BB-8." He gently knocks shoulders with his friend again, Finn chuckling softly.

"Well, I didn't understand what it was saying, but .." He trails off suddenly, blushing deeply. When Poe gives him that questioning look, he clears his throat. Slides his gaze away from him. "But, I could see the concern and stuff. On it's face." He feels so damn weird, talking about a -face- on a droid that doesn't actually have one. Not like C-3PO does, anyway. It was actually incapable of displaying emotion, but Finn knows what he saw.

"Yeah, BB-8 can be pretty emotive when it wants to be." He admits, leaning his head back lightly. Eyes fluttering closed as he curls into the ex-stormtrooper's side. "You should've seen BB, Finn. It was freaking out, shrieking at me. Terrified that you were hurt." He abruptly falls silent. Staring off ahead of him, though Finn gets the feeling that his friend isn't actually -seeing- the room they're sitting in.

Because he isn't. No, all Poe can see is BB-8 rolling up to him, screaming his little beeps and blips and boops. All the droid had been able to tell him, was that Finn was bleeding and in pain, that he had injured himself and that the nurse said she was sorry for how bad it was going to hurt. He would rather not admit it out loud, but he had been able to feel his heart leap up to his throat about the same time his stomach dove somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. He had dropped what he was doing and taken off at a run. The sound of the nurse's voice filtering out into the hall was the only thing that kept him from bursting in to make sure that his friend was okay.

"...Poe?" Softly prompted, trying to disguise the concern in his voice as he watches his friend. Tries to understand what the older man is concentrating so very hard on. "What's wrong?"

"..huh?" Poe snaps out of it, shivering subtly before he turns his large, watery eyes on the man settled next to him. "Oh." He clears his throat, the sound as weak and pathetic as he currently feels. His lips twitch at the corners but he cannot conjure up a smile for his friend. Not even a strained one, despite how hard he tries. "Nothing's wrong, man. Just .. lost in thought for a moment." He glances down at thier joined hands, admiring the contrast of smooth, clean russet skin against calloused, dirty off white and he can feel his smile blossom with a suddenness that takes his breath away. "Glad you're doing better, buddy. I should get out of the way, for now. I'll be back later." He squeezes the held hand before he has to -force- himself to get off the bed and head toward the door.

* * *

_Rey ... Poe ... Rey ... Rey ... Poe ... Rey ... Snap .. Poe ... Testor .. Snap ... Rey ... BB ... BB .. Rey Rey Rey ... Poe Poe POE POE POEPOEPOE ..._

Finn's mind is stuck on a strange track of recurring thoughts. He attributes part of this to the fact that he is bed bound with very little to break up the monotony of bed ridden, pain, occasional visitors, and his own company. Add to that the fact that Poe told him he will get to speak to Rey soon, and he is practically on the edge of his seat. Or bed. Whatever.

The only thing to break up the monotony is this itch. It's a slow trickle that has built up under the top layer of his skin. It sets his teeth on edge ... causes him to run the edge of his nails across the outside of his wrists. To scratch at his scalp and to gouge at his stomach. He almost wants to shove his nails into his hips or something. -Anything- that will chase this damn itch away!

But it's not -just- the itch. There's this strange compulsion that goes with it. Every time he itches, he gets this feeling that he should get up and go. That he should escape the medbay and be out -looking- for something. Years of conditioning have taught him to ignore compulsions. The thought of exiting his bed and allowing himself to wander the base sends a chill of dread through him. It ties his half empty stomach into toxic knots of apprehension because it would be disobeying. He would be going against orders to leave his bed and the thought terrifies him. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time, but this would be a meaningless display of rebellion. Discomfort is not reason enough to disobey, after all. 

There are no windows in his room. Nothing to suggest a time of day but the level of fatigue weighing down on him has his body believing it is sometime during the night cycle on D'Qar. Well, that and the distinct lack of visitors currently taking up his time. Since he met Snap and Testor, it seems one of the two are constantly keeping watch over his room unless it's time for them to sleep. So, night. Though, he feels no pressing sense that he should be sleeping himself. 

Because it's back. His nails are currently sunk into the side of his wrist. Dried blood flakes against his finger tips as his nails sink deeper and deeper. A few jagged cuts are littered through the uneven indentations of his scratching. The pain is nothing, a mere after thought compared to everything else he's feeling at the moment. In fact, it is more of an annoyance than anything. He shifts against the covers and sheets plastering him to the bed, his eyes falling to half mast. 

His fingers flex against his skin and he glances down. Then promptly winces. He can see streaks of dark red standing out against his russet skin and he bites back a whimper. Making noise will do nothing to alleviate the problem. Instead, he reaches down to toss the covers and sheets to the side. The moment he is free, the weight shifted, he breathes easier. Sucks in a solitary breath and holds it until he feels refreshed and lightheaded. And yet, his fingers continue to dig into his wrist so he sighs. This is not like any thing he has ever felt before. It is not a feeling he has experienced and no matter how much he struggles to stop, he can't. His nails keep wandering back to bite into his flesh.

He begins to squirm. Minute movements at first. Nothing more than a push of his leg, a shake of his foot. A shift of his hip. Little movements that are building up to some need to -move- overtly. But he isn't sure if he's running toward or away from something.

A few more minutes pass and he just can't take it anymore! He carefully pushes himself up to a sitting position and then stands. It feels so odd. To actually be standing under his own steam, for real this time, and not through the remnant of some fever dream. (Though, a part of him -misses- the dream, the things that had transpired in the subconscious halls of his mind.) So, he stands here .. swaying precariously in the middle of his hospital room, and he feels free. Freer than he had when he was riding the Millennium Falcon away from Jakku and the First Order. But the itch intensifies. His entire body feels as if it is burning just beneath the skin and he needs to scratch the first few layers off! If this is what his back felt like, he's damn well happy he slept through it.

Will he be punished if he leaves? If he cracks open that door between himself and the hallway, will he face the wrath of General Organa, or will he simply be told to return to his room? Will it hurt anything to find out? He shifts on his feet, winces as his bandaged knee pinches and pulls and he knows that walking can damage him further. His back may be fully healed, but his knee is still a bit of a punctured, wrecked mess. Will he be putting his health in jeopardy if he follows this compulsion through to what he hopes will be it's conclusion? 

In the end, the itch beneath his skin is the deciding factor. He carefully makes his way to the door and steps out, into the hall. Of course, it occurs to him once the door is closed and a direction picked, that he has no clue where he is going. So, he follows the corridor, letting that strange instinct nestled in his gut lead the way. Sure, it could be some foolish faux-instinct that doesn't really mean anything, but it can also be the cure to this horrible itch, so he will take his chances. 

He remains close to the wall, his finger tips pressed ever so gently against the expanse. Each step braces his knee in pain, but his finger tips trailing the wall are keeping him sane. Giving him something solid, outside of his own existence, to focus on. It feels like a day .. month ... maybe a -year- that he walks, lost in the steady rhythm of step, drag, breathe ... step, drag, breathe ... the repetitive motion making a lying illusion of time. 

_'Finn ..'_

His steps stumble to an unsteady stop when he hears the soft, urgent whisper of his name. His eyes have gone large and searching, scanning the hallway as he struggles to understand what he is hearing.

_'Steady on, my boy. Slowly, now.'_

The coaxing voice is soft and reassuring and no matter how odd and out of place, Finn finds some sense of safety in it. The kind of safety he has only felt, up until this point, when in the presence of Rey or Poe. He is confused and afraid, to say the least.

_'Just a little further ..'_

He finds that his feet respond without him, carrying him in the direction that the disembodied voice seems to be emanating from. Several twisted corridors later and he is lost beyond means, but still not panicking. Instead, he somehow feels mellow and content as he trails his hand along the smooth walls. As he concentrates on putting one tired, aching foot in front of the other.

".. Finn?" A new voice echoes down the hallway, tugging an instant smile from the Ex-Stormtrooper, even if he is a little too exhausted to register how odd it is that he is hearing Poe in the middle of nowhere. Or -is- it the middle of nowhere?! For all he knows, he has wandered into a part of the base that is teeming with people at all hours of the day and night. His cheeks fill with heat, though it is impossible to detect on his dark skin. "What are you doing out here, buddy? Shouldn't you be getting some more rest??" There's a note of low-level hysteria in the voice of the fighter pilot, and Finn cannot help but feel .... bad. The Resistance has been so kind as to take him in, waste valuable resources on getting him better rather than -leaving him to die- as the First Order would, and how has he repaid the Pilot that befriended him and gave him a name!? By worrying him, dreaming that they had kissed, and wishing that it were true. 

"Poe." He sighs the name, his palm trembling momentarily as it presses flat against the wall. "Probably." 

_'Finn ..'_

".. but it's calling me, Poe. Something .. someONE, is calling me. I can't ... you don't hear that?" His throat clicks drily, his words a whimper of pain as his injuries protest the lack of pain meds because he's been wandering around like a damn freak. 

"Hear .. hear what, Finn? There's nothing to hear, buddy, just us." The ex-Stormtropper cannot claim to understand how empathy, apathy, telepathy, or the Force might work, as feelings, emotions, and religion are things he had been denied access, but he thinks that this somehow applies. That somehow, some -way-, he is being urged on by the Force. He sucks in a breath, turns his half-glazed eyes on his best friend, and somehow produces a smile that is painted in quiet reassurance. Finn even reaches out and carefully laces the fingers of one hand in that of the pilot and turns back toward his destination.

"Trust me, Poe ... please, just trust me."

"Of course." The capitulation is instant, without reservation, and Finn worries he might actually cry. Can feel the stinging prick of tears against the back of his eyes when Poe tightens the hand around his and falls into step with him. As if it is the most natural thing in the world to follow beside a man that once wore the White Armor. 

"P-Poe ..." There is no reason for him to speak the name, or at least, none he can comprehend at the moment. Maybe it is simply spoken because there is security in it? Either way, Poe squeezes his hand, moves so that every other step causes them to bump companionably against one another. Finn suspects that it is only partially out of a need to feel that he is there, but also in case Poe needs to help steady him. Either way, he's grateful for the presence of the other man.

_'So close, my child. So very close.'_

He jerks to a sudden stop, wincing when the action causes Poe to jerk against him. His knee is burning and throbbing in time with his unsteady heartbeat and he wishes that he had remained in bed. No sooner does he have the thought, than he is pissed with himself for entertaining it. There is obviously a reason he was compelled to leave the room and seek out whatever this is. 

"Finn? Everything okay, buddy? Is this ... is this where we need to be?" Because Poe is just -that- fucking -awesome-. He doesn't have the first clue what is going on ... some deep, dark part of himself probably thinks Finn is losing it, at least a little bit, but he's still backing his friend 100%. Because that is what friendship is. Finn has never felt so ... so -connected- in all of his life.

"Yeah. Yes. This is it." He glances from the old, rusted door toward the pilot he calls friend, and then back again. Holding his breath, afraid to exhale, he pushes his free palm flat against the door and shoves .... gasps when it raises with little resistance and the lights within the room begin to brighten. Chasing away the shadows bathing a collection of dusty old bins.

"Huh. Looks like this place hasn't been touched in years. Hell, maybe not since the last rebellion or something." Poe's hand slowly unlaces from his and he feels the absence of it immediately. Feels untethered in a foreign world but he has no right to try and cling to the other man, does he? He doesn't even know what the protocol on 'mingling' might be in this strange, new place of lax rules and regulations. A place that allows the individual to -be- somebody. Not just a jackbooting group or whole. 

"I .. hear .." Finn's hands fly up, palms digging into his exposed temples as he fights against a wave of dizziness and familiarity. His eyes narrow to half mast, the webbing of his lashes creating a nightmarish outline of darkness as he stares ahead at a collection of small crates that are draped with drooping cobwebs and motes of discolored dust.

_'Finn ... please ...'_

A whimper is ripped from his open lips, palms pressing tighter to the distressed planes of his temples as he idly wonders how the fuck one is supposed to combat a voice that feels as if it's coming from -inside your damn head-! 

"Buddy ... Finn .... FINN!!" It takes far too long for him to register that Poe is practically screaming at him. That he can feel hot, heavy, sweaty hands grabbing at his weak shoulders and clinging on for dear life. "You're starting to scare me, Finn. Please tell me you're okay, please. I can't .. you -have- to be okay, Finn." There is a level of desperation and begging in the pilot's voice that Finn isn't sure he has heard thus far. It warms something cold and clenched inside of him and he feels himself breathing steadily again.

"I'm oky. Just .. it's talking to me. Too loud. I have to ..." Carefully, with as much reluctance as he can muster, he pulls himself from Poe's hold, sidesteps his friend and walks to the collection of crates. Quaking finger tips skate across the motes of dust, leaving behind smudged designs without any real intent, before he manages to latch onto the edge of one of the structures. Another deep, held breath and he carefully pries the lid open. Then promptly drops it to the ground with a loud clatter as nerveless fingers spasm and clench against empty air.

"Finn? What ... holy fuck!" Poe inhales sharply, the breath a hiss of awe and maybe a little bit of fear. Honestly, Finn can't blame him. He is a little afraid himself. After all, it's not every day an Ex-Stormtropper and a Resistance Fighter Pilot stumble across an old, dusty crate full ... of fucking LIGHTSABERS! The surreal nature of this find begins to seep into Finn's brain even as he watches Poe begin to reach for one of the dozen weapons contained within.

"No!" He rears forward, both hands wrapping around Poe's to keep him from making contact with the weapon. "That's a black 'saber, Poe, don't touch it. I can ... Maker, I can -feel- the badness coming off of it." The man shudders to emphasize his point, not releasing his friend until Poe has backed up from the crate.

"Yeah, how about we leave? That's sounding like a -good- plan, buddy. We need to leave, tell General Organa about this place and just be far, far away from here, okay?" Hysteria has begun to creep back into Poe's voice, but Finn is only marginally aware of it. Some deep part of himself wants to be able to do just that. Wants to take Poe by the hand and lead him out of this place because it so obviously upsets him. But he can't. The thought of actually leaving now, it creates a physical pain deep in his bones and joints.

"That one is yellow." He ignores the hysteria for now, his trembling finger tip skating across one of the 'sabers. He has no idea how he knows, but he -does-. Just as the black one repulsed him, the yellow one vaguely calls to him. It whispers of Sentinels seeking Justice, no matter what the extremes. A part of him can understand that, but it does not touch that secret spark deep inside of him. "B-Bronze." He stumbles over the name of the color because he doesn't understand. Where the first had clearly repulsed him, and the second had vaguely drawn him, this one does -both-. Because there is something exuding from the 'saber that says that he would be able to use it perfectly. That he has the capability of brute force that it calls for, but no. Because another part of him, his heart or soul, maybe, says that -that- is the last thing he wants to be. If he could apply brute force that way ... he would've pulled his trigger on Jakku. The capability is there .. just not the -will-. 

"Finn?" Poe's voice cracks and creaks on his name, but he cannot propell himself away from the crate. Instead, he lunges forward. Both hands come down lightening fast, reaching into the heart of the bunch of weapons and pulling one forth. The weight of it is perfect in his hands ... it is elegant and right. It is -his-. "Wh-which one .. is that?" 

He doesn't answer. Cannot force words past the dry clicking of his throat. Instead, he engages the 'saber, watching in awe as the pristine, pure white beam of light leaps into existence.

"Oh .. wow. That ... that .. that's kinda beautiful. What does it mean?" That is a good question. After a moment of hesitation, he turns the weapon off and pulls it close to his chest. His shoulders sag and his head shakes back and forth.

"I don't know, but it's mine, Poe. I can't .. I can't explain how I know, but it's -mine-. It called me by name .. lead me down here. I don't understand what's going on." He hiccups in the midst of his words, hugging the 'saber closer to himself as he wades through the feelings of confusion and fear. 

"This Lisghtsaber is for those who are pure of heart. You seek peace by taking the most non-violent path." Both men jump and turn at the sudden voice that drifts from the open doorway. Finn takes a step forward, placing himself minutely in front of Poe in a protective stance. Years of conditioning causing him to identify the voice as a threat as he tries to comprehend the situation. "Calm down, Mr. Dameron. I assure you that you have no need of that here. Besides, if you chose the white, then you are not going to attack without good provocation." General Organa smiles faintly, leaning heavily on a cane as she glances between the two men. Poe is wild eyed and a little crazy looking. The moment Finn stepped into his protective stance, Poe's hand reached out to grab hold of his shirt. Anchoring himself with his best friend. The action warms Organa through and through. Reminds her of so many different things but she pushes them all down. Because history doesn't always repeat itself and not all things are Fated. 

"I-I'm sorry, General, I didn't .. I wasn't going to ... I'm sorry." Finn stumbles through his words as he tucks the powered down 'saber behind his back, trembling in his own way as he lowers his eyes. He still has trouble with the thought that he can look her in the eye. Phasma was as likely to have him beat as to be okay with him looking directly at her. It created a sort of limbo that he always finds himself stuck in when presented with senior officers. 

"It's alright, Finn, I understand. The base is new and you haven't been away from the First Order for long. Certain instincts will take time to circumnavigate." She has such a warm, soft way of talking that it is obvious to Finn that she is a mother. He hates Kylo Ren even more for making this sweet, kindhearted woman suffer so much. "I am here for a reason, Finn. Rey and Luke have finished reporting in, and young Rey is looking forward to speaking to you. Poe, please take Finn to the Comms room."

* * *

Finn is jittery with nerves. In fact, he is practically vibrating with them as Poe guides him down the hallway and into the small room used for private communications. Just beyond this door, Rey is waiting. Sure, it's not in the flesh, as she is so many light years and systems away, but still. She is there, where he can actually -talk- to her. Where he can -see- her in some way. His heart is beating heavily and his palms are a little sweaty. And yet .... and yet, Poe hasn't let go. Because Poe is just that wonderful. Poor Finn can feel his heart doing this odd little swoop and dive and he is uncertain what to attribute it to; Poe or Rey. Maybe a combination of both?? 

"You ready for this, Finn?" Poe's gentle, coaxing voice seems cut through the tension of his nerves and he bobs his head in agreement. 

"Yeah, lets do this, Poe." Because it has not once occurred to him that his best friend will not want to accompany him into what should probably be a private conversation between two friends. But then, maybe it also never occurred to Poe that he could object and stay behind. He has not one let go of Finn's hand, nor is he about to allow his buddy to face this nerve wracking conversation on his own. 

"Finn?" Rey's voice is as soft and gentle as he remembers it, though there is an underlying sense of desperation in it as well. He can totally understand that, because even in his -fever dream- he was desperate for information about what his friend was going through.

"Thank the Maker, Rey!" Finn truly -breathes- for what feels like the first time since he woke up, his features breaking out into a beautiful smile that seems to light the little room up. Poe winces vaguely away from the look, contemplating the release of Finn's hand because he feels as if he is violating the intimacy of whatever moment is about to unfold between these two. "I've missed you. Been so worried about you! Are you okay? Is Master Skywalker treating you fair? Are you learning anything new?!" The questions flow swiftly from his glistening lips as he flops gracelessly into the seat in front of the monitor. He feels like death, and knows that he is still slightly flaked with blood and that there is a thin sheen of sweat across his features, but he doesn't care if he looks utterly feral. He's just happy for this chance.

"Finn, buddy, slow down, okay? Give her time to answer." Poe's voice is full of fond exasperation and Finn cannot filter his mind between thought and action. So he carefully lays his head over on Poe's shoulder, squeezing the hand still wrapped about his as he smiles tiredly at Rey's on-screen visage.

"Sorry, Rey." He sheepishly smiles even as his free hand lifts to press his finger tips to the screen. After all of her chastisement toward him trying to grab her hand on Jakku, he is in no way prepared for her to mirror his action. It is a heady sensation, realizing that she has missed him as much as he has missed her. The absence of his pseudo-sibling has felt like the amputation of a limb. 

"It's okay, Finn." She smiles warmly and his world is complete. He has Poe at his side, Rey smiling in front of him .. it's all good. "Everything is .. interesting. Master Skywalker is .... set in his ways, but I am studying and doing every thing I can to learn the ways of the Force." She looks thoughtful for a moment, head canted to the side as she contemplates her friend. "Something feels .. different about you. Like your giving off some .. vibe." 

Finn jerks in his seat, his mind racing with all of the things he wants to tell her, but he doesn't have the words. How does he tell her that he felt a lightsaber call to him? That he lived a path of falling in love with his best friend but none of it was real? How does he phrase the thought that he has found a place to belong and a potential family, though he has met most of them only a few times?? 

His eyes snap closed, his shoulder lifting weakly in a shrug before he forces himself to sit up straighter and smile at his friend.

"Every thing has changed, Rey, of course I'm vibing!" He manages a halfhearted chuckle, his eyes falling to half mast for a moment as he tries to think of what to say. "I should be out of medical, soon. Hopefully, that means I will find some way to help General Organa. She's done so much for me. Same as you, Poe." He flashes a shy, sweet little grin to his best friend, nearly blushing when Poe returns it. Once he manages to get his attention back on Rey, she is wide eyed and seems to have figured something out. Not that he has any idea what that might be. 

"I look forward to returning to base, Finn. There's so much we need to talk about, I think." She grins and Finn feels as if he is suddenly free floating. Untethered and flowing away. 

"Yeah, there is, Rey. I wish ... I weren't so .. tired." Each break in his words is emphasized by a loud yawn that has Rey giggling and Poe smiling fondly again.

"It's alright, Finn. Go, get some sleep. We will speak again. Poe. Might I have a word with you in private?" The Ex-Stormtrooper hesitates for a moment before he slips out of the room, fighting a sense of anxiety at the thought of his two friends speaking without knowing what is said. In the end, he leans against the wall opposite the door, silently waiting for the pilot to exit.

* * *

Time dips and sways, running away from him again. One moment, he is leaning against the wall opposite the Comm room door, the next he is easing himself onto his back on his med-bay bed, wincing and groaning as he tries to find a comfortable position.

"So .. Rey is, uh ... yeah, she's a little terrifying, ain't she?" Poe's voice sounds oddly flat and far away, stirring some sense of dread in the pit of Finn's gut as he carefully smooths the edges of his blanket down his side. Forms it perfectly to conform to his frame in some semblance of the white armor he once wore. That mutated visual sucks the breath from his lungs in a silent whoosh of emotion he is incapable of handling at the moment. "Don't get me wrong, I mean that in a good way. Friends should be a little fierce and terrifying when they're protecting you. Right?" The Ex-Stormtrooper cocks a salient brow, hoping that the pilot understands the expression on his worn out features; bitch please! The hell does -he- know about friends, after all?! "Oh ... _**OH**_. Right. Really not something I should be asking, because of the .. background .. stuff. You know what? I'm gonna shut up now, buddy." 

Poe stands to the far side of Finn's bed, a man drowning on dry land as heat radiates from his darkened, dusty cheeks. He is a striking image. Handsome and awe inspiring. Perfectly imperfect and Finn is sure he has never ached as truly and deeply for anything, as he does for his friend. Not even the most unattainable thing to a Stormtropper: freedom. Yes, Poe is more alluring and awesome than the idea had been. This thought should terrify him, but instead, it grounds him. It is an anchor to hold him perfectly steady in the tsunami and hurricane of his newfound emotions and freedoms. 

"The day Poe Dameron shuts up .. well, he just ain't Poe anymore." The words escape Finn without conscious thought and it is the most glorious thing to ever happen. Because it means that he will never be a Stormtrooper again, because he can speak his mind without patrolling every word to make sure that he's not going to piss off a superior. He can feel a momentary wave of hysteria crawling up, through his aching bones to be birthed as a broad smile on his handsome, though tired features. "Some part of me says I should apologize for that ... the other part of me says hell no. I can actually -do- this now, can't I?" He giggles giddily, head tossed back so that he is embraced by the surprisingly comfortable pillow. 

"Yeah ... yeah, you can, buddy. You can do -anything- and -everything-, Finn. The First Order doesn't own you anymore, buddy. You have the chance to be your own man now." Poe surges forward, claims a small part of the foot of the bed so that he can reach down. Can press a palm gently against one of the cloth covered feet of his friend and Finn luxuriates under the siple action of camaraderie. 

"Yeah, I can." He preens under the touch, eye lids falling to half mast as he allows himself to begin relaxing into the bed. He won't always be trapped here, but for now, he's happy to remain. "You're the greatest friend a guy could ever hope for, Poe. Thanks for everything." It's not a declaration of love, not the kiss they shared in his coma dream, but that's okay.

He's an Ex-Stormtropper that has been told he is worth it. Even after he was damaged, he wasn't thrown away like a broken toy or a tainted asset. He has a lightsaber, a best friend, and hopefully, a chance at a future with a really great guy. It may take time for him to heal, but there's so much to look forward to.

"Be here when I wake up, Poe?" He murmurs sluggishly, voice sleep slurred as he settles deeper into the bed.

"Always, Finn. I'll always be here for you, buddy." With those words, he sighs and lets go. Sinks into a deep, restful sleep. Tonight, happy dreams. Tomorrow? The beginning of his future.

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed!


End file.
